


Red Stones

by DLanaDHZ



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Runaway, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a familiar call deep into the forest, Merlin finds himself dropped through time to enter a Camelot he doesn't know. Now he must fulfill his destiny and find his way back home by facing his greatest foe yet - a 14 year old Arthur Pendragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banners by Arirawrs on LiveJournal.

 

“Good Morning,” Merlin called out as he threw open the curtains, just as he did every morning of every day. Without being told to, he went to pick out Arthur’s outfit for the day and set it out over the back of the prince’s chair.

“Every morning is good with you,” Arthur grumbled as he pulled himself out of his pillows and sheets.

“Would you rather I wake you by saying the castle’s on fire next time?” Merlin asked, pouring water into Arthur’s breakfast goblet.

“I’d rather you not say anything for a day or so.” The blonde royal lazily meandered behind his changing screen with the clothes Merlin had chosen and made himself semi-presentable before returning to view and heading for his breakfast.

“Right,” Merlin begin, seeming to actually ponder the idea. “So what are the plans for the day?”

Arthur grumbled in a way that seemed to suggest Merlin was an idiot for even asking. “Father says I need to go on a vacation,” he said in much the same upset tone. “He thinks I’m stressed. Do I look stressed to you?”

With his unbrushed hair, sad and tired eyes, deep frown, and clothes in need of some adjusting by Merlin… well, Merlin thought it best to hide his small smile and shake his head like a good servant would. As usual, Arthur wasn’t as big a fool as he looked and saw right through the motions.

“You’re lying to me!” he exclaimed. “I am NOT stressed. What reason do I have to be stressed?”

“You’re hidden affections for a certain servant?” Merlin suggested instantly. Arthur dropped the bread from his breakfast back on his plate and frowned deeply. If Merlin didn’t know better, he’d think Arthur was surprised that Merlin knew, but they’d been over Arthur’s love for Gwen plenty of times, so none of this could possibly be a shock… except maybe that Merlin was mentioning it in the first place after Arthur had promised so many times to have him killed for ever speaking of it again.

“Fine,” Arthur finally accepted, looking down at his breakfast. “If you think I’m so stressed, where should we go on vacation?”

“I’m sorry?” Merlin asked, pausing only two steps toward going to make Arthur’s bed.

“What, you didn’t think I’d be going off without someone to cook and clean and carry my stuff, did you?” Arthur asked. Merlin sighed and shook his head.

“Well then I’d say it’s up to you. Where have you always wanted to go but couldn’t?” Merlin said as he began to straighten the sheets.

“Nowhere,” Arthur answered with a hint of awe. “Anywhere I wanted to go, Father always took me there. Well, except for one time I was accompanied by an old man instead.” Here his voice trailed off in thought.

“An old man?” Merlin asked, skeptical.

“Oh! I have it!” Arthur suddenly exclaimed and turned in his chair to face the bed. “Where would you go? I’m sure there are plenty of places you’ve been dreaming of while I dragged you across the kingdom.”

“True. There has been a lot of dragging through dangerous places lately,” Merlin said, diverting the question while he thought. He tossed the pillows to the foot of the bed and straightened out the edge of the sheets where the pillows would lay. “How about the beach?”

“You’ve never been to the beach?” Arthur asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

Merlin threw an indignant look back at his lord. “I have, but only once and that was to save your sorry behind from a unicorn curse. It was hot, covered in rocks, and I ended up having to carry you halfway back to Camelot.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t enjoy it, then.”

Merlin tried to glare at Arthur again, but it lost its heat when he saw how Arthur was grinning like a loon at his pitiful attempt to tease. Instead of glaring, Merlin sighed and nodded his head.

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying. I mean, for once, I’d like to sit with my toes in the sand and feel the waves instead of just hear them, you know? My mom says it’s one of the best feelings in the world, standing at the wave line.” Merlin set the pillows back in their spots, all fluffy and ready for Arthur’s heavy head. Only when he was done did he realize Arthur hadn’t made any snide comments… or any comments at all. He turned his head to find the prince watching him closely. “What?”

“I need potatoes,” Arthur said as though it were the most natural response in the world. “And broccoli. And fresh bread. So I need you to go to the market. Also, I want to give Morgana some flowers, so can you pick some of those too? She likes white and purple best.”

“What?” Merlin asked again, disbelieving. It was barely morning and Arthur was setting up a chore list? Arthur wasn’t even fully awake yet. How did he have the brain function to make commands?

“You heard me. And buy some food for the dogs. We won’t need them for hunting anytime soon, but they need to be fed too and the supply looked a bit low last I saw it,” Arthur finished. He swiveled around to eat his breakfast again, turning his back on Merlin’s stunned expression.

“They have plenty of food. More than me!” Merlin complained.

“You may want to get started,” Arthur said, ignoring him. “I hear flower picking takes quite a bit of time.” Merlin huffed and knocked a pillow on the floor for revenge… only to have to be the one who picked it back up to fix the mess.  
\-- -- -- -- --

“And then he said ‘I hear flower picking takes quite a bit of time!’ I mean, can you believe it?” Merlin complained as he walked through the produce in town.

“Oh no,” Gwen agreed, but she was smiling. “How ever could I believe our gracious prince would deign to pick on you in such a way?”

“Pick on me?” Merlin asked. “This is going way beyond teasing, Gwen. I mean, the guy is an overgrown child. I bet he was even worse when he was a child.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” Gwen said, stopping to pick out a head of lettuce. “He once ran away, you know.”

“How does this surprise me?” Merlin asked, stopping whatever Gwen had meant to follow that up with. He turned his head to the side, looking out toward the main city gate, and narrowed his eyes. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Gwen asked, setting her lettuce in her basket and moving on to the potato stand. “You need some of these, right?”

“Right,” Merlin said and put his hand down on some to check them for quality. He turned his head again and bit the inside of his cheek. “You sure you didn’t hear someone call me just now?”

Gwen laughed. “I think you need a vacation more than Arthur,” she said. “You’re starting to hear orders where there are none.”

“Maybe,” Merlin said, but he didn’t relax. He’d heard that voice before, calling him.

“If you hold any tighter to that potato, you’ll have them being thrown at you in the stocks,” she warned and brought Merlin’s attention to the grip he had on a poor spud.

“Oops,” he laughed and decided to take that potato just in case. “Maybe I do need to relax more.”

“Maybe you can relax a bit during this vacation. I mean, Arthur’s your friend, not just your master. Maybe he’ll really take you to the beach,” Gwen guessed. “But you best get Morgana’s flowers before the bread or meat goes bad, or Arthur may decide not to take you at all.”

“Thanks, Gwen,” Merlin said, and he wasn’t sure if he meant it or not. He picked a few more potatoes, paid the vendor, and walked on. “Speaking of, you should get back to her soon. I’ll probably see you later when Arthur has me deliver the flowers.”

“Then I await your delivery,” Gwen said with a playful smile. “Be careful picking flowers.”

“Oh I will. The flower monsters won’t stand a chance.” And with a few laughs they parted. Merlin had barely taken two steps when he stopped to stare out at the fields where he was about to go. Someone was definitely calling him, and if Gwen couldn’t hear it, then it was a telepathic call. But it was no Mordred chant or druid plea. Merlin only knew one who spoke in this tongue.

Merlin shook his head roughly and walked on. He didn’t care how much that great scaly beast called him. Merlin was busy. He wasn’t going to run after him. The Great Dragon may think this call was important, but not listening to Arthur would be worse. Maybe after he delivered the flowers, but not now. He was the dragonlord, not the other way around.  
\-- -- -- -- --

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. The closer to finishing his flower picking he got, the more he heard it, the louder it got. The dragon couldn’t even be here, so how was he voice so close? Kilgharrah couldn’t return to Camelot without Merlin’s permission.

“Shut up,” Merlin murmured into the bushes as he clipped some beautiful irises.

But the call ignored him, almost as if he hadn’t been heard. But that was impossible. Kilgharrah could always hear Merlin when they were within telepathic distance. It was ingrained in them through their magic. Which meant the dragon was ignoring him personally. Great.

“This better be worth it,” Merlin groaned as he stood up straight and turned his back to Camelot. Leaves slipped under his feet as he moved further into the forest, and the trees grew slightly closer together. Still, no matter how far he walked, the dragon’s call didn’t seem to grow much louder at all.

“Where are you?!” Merlin yelled into the branches, but got only a startled bird call in return. “Dragon!”

Merlin trudged up a hill and stopped as he neared the top. The voice of the dragon, he’d thought something was wrong with it before, but now he was sure. It had sounded familiar, too familiar. It was louder now that he was closer, but not by much. Still, the rise in volume did help. It was echoing. It was hollow. It was the same way the dragon’s voice had sounded in Merlin’s head for two years. It was as if it were coming from another cave.

“Kilgharrah?” Merlin asked curiously, stepping to the top of the hill beside a fallen log. He glanced down the other side, where a pocket was formed between the hill he was on and another small hill on the other side. He could hear the voice resonating from this spot. But there was no cave entrance and definitely no dragon. “Hello?” he tried again. Then he felt his foot slip on the leaves, the basket of produce and flowers go flying into the air, and his head thwacking the log which felt more like a rock. Then he felt nothing at all.

\-- -- -- -- --

Merlin blinked the bleariness from his eyes and groaned. What horse had kicked him in the head? He sat up slowly and ran his hand back over his head until he hit a sore spot. With a wince, he ripped his hand from his head. He’d given himself a nice big bump on the side of his head, and he partially remembered there being a log involved. He would need to have Gaius check him out before he went back to see Arthur.

Stretching out his aching back and groaning, Merlin made to climb back up the hill. He’d dropped his basket before he fell, he remembered that, and he needed to collect what was salvageable before he returned to the city. It would be best if he didn’t have to redo all the shopping. But when he reached the top again, he saw no basket. Merlin knit his brow together and spun in a slow circle, because his head wouldn’t let him move any faster. There was no sign of his basket or any of the food or flowers. He could understand if the animals had eaten the food, but no animal ate entire baskets that fast, if there were any that ate baskets at all.

Merlin turned his gaze to the sky and squinted against the early morning rays. He felt his heart stop a moment and he gasped, spinning faster than he should have to face the city. Morning?! How could it be morning? He’d headed into the woods just before lunch to pick the flowers. Was it even possible he’d been unconscious for almost an entire day? Arthur was going to flay him alive. Not only had Merlin stayed out all night, but he’d lost all the supplies.

But where was the basket? Merlin knelt down to get a different angle on his surroundings. As a last resort, he bent over and checked inside the log that was responsible for his head wound. The emptiness of it wasn’t a surprise, but a young and haughty voice was.

“Idiot,” it scolded. Merlin ripped back from the log and looked up at a young teen standing nearby. He was a peasant by his outfit, a farmer’s boy no doubt. His hair was blonde with sun-induced highlights, and his eyes were like the sky. Over his shoulder, he carried a brown satchel.

“Excuse me?” Merlin asked, offended. His head gave a throb and he reached back to hold the spot that ached. He pulled his hand back quickly and looked down at it. His eyes widened as he saw the blood there.

“Only an idiot walks around with a head wound like that,” the boy scolded, but he sounded sympathetic all the same. He walked closer to Merlin and didn’t ask permission before grabbing hold of his arm. “Sit down,” he ordered and half forced the motion before giving Merlin a chance to react. The position left Merlin at a severe height disadvantage.

“Hey,” he tried to argued, but the farm boy interrupted him with a loud and impolite ‘shush.’ Merlin frowned in anger. For a farmer, this kid had a lot of nerve. Then, without warning, the young teen smashed his hand harshly against the bleeding spot on Merlin’s head. “Hey!” Merlin hissed.

“I said don’t talk,” the kid huffed, and that was when Merlin noticed that it hadn’t been a hand against his head but a wad of bandages.

Slowly and sloppily, a strip of cloth was pulled around Merlin’s head, pulling tight against the wound. After it had made its turn a few times too many, the bandages wrapped themselves up and held firm against his head. Unfortunately, when the farm boy had decided his work was done Merlin could barely see out of his left eye because of it being half covered by the bandages. Merlin pushed the wrapping gently with his fingers until they were out of his view but still holding onto his wound. Then he gingerly touched the cut on his head with his fingers.

“Not bad,” he complimented. “Who taught you to patch up a wound like that, kid?”

“I’m fourteen,” the boy complained bitterly. “And I’ll have you know that the court physician himself taught me how. That’s how special I am. I’m not a kid.” And he said the word with great disdain.

“Okay,” Merlin agreed. “Not a kid. But why would Gaius teach someone as, er, young as you to patch wounds? Even if you are special.” Gaius had never mentioned children learning from him before, and Merlin had never seen this teen, but he supposed it was always possible.

“Father says I need to know this stuff for when I become a great battle champion,” the farm boy announced. “One day, I’ll lead a band of knights into battle, and I’ll need to know how to care for the wounded.”

“Head knight, eh?” Merlin asked with a grin. Well, it was nice kids had dreams, even if Arthur would never revoke his title. “And who are you, so special and valiant? I wish to know the name of my future hero.”

The blonde smiled broadly at Merlin’s teasing and placed one foot on the log, taking a strong and gallant pose. “I am Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot!”

Merlin blanched. Arthur? Wow. The kid had nice dreams, but there was no way he’d ever be Arthur. Although this might explain how he thought he could ever become head knight. He was dreaming of becoming someone like Arthur. He should really get a new hero. Cute kid game, but it was impossible. No way.

“Oh!” the boy’s eyes went wide and he covered his mouth. He gazed down at Merlin in shock, then he jumped down from the log and knelt by Merlin on the ground. “No, wait. Forget I said that. I’m nobody important, understand? And if anyone asks, you didn’t meet me.”

Before Merlin could agree or disagree, the blonde farm boy jumped up and ran off in the direction of the city. Merlin reached up and held his head. That was one odd youth. Had Merlin been that spastic as a teen? He didn’t remember it, but maybe his head wound was more serious than he thought. He’d really have to get Gaius to check him out.

Clambering to his feet, Merlin began his walk back to the city. He would just have to tell Arthur he lost the supplies and endure the punishment and teasing. He could hear it now. Poor Merlin, had his basket stolen by a squirrel. He may never live it down this time.

But as he left the woods and came into view of Camelot, Merlin found something much worse waiting for him. This was not the city he’d left this morning. Its castle was missing a tower, the town was almost a whole district smaller, and the smoke of a big fire rose out of the castle courtyard like the kind that hung around after a burning. Merlin glanced back into the trees and then down toward the city where the blonde farm boy was trotting through the gates.

It wasn’t. Was it?


	2. The Past

Merlin frowned as he stepped into the city. Some peasants were setting up their shops for the day ahead, and a few of them regarded him as he passed by. They all wore looks of pity on their faces, and if it was for the poor soul who’d been burned at the castle or for Merlin’s head wound, he wasn’t sure. In part, they may be thinking his wound was caused by a crazed witch, but he hoped not. It was the fault of some stupid leaves and a badly fallen log. Merlin wished they’d stop staring as he walked. It made him feel uncomfortable, too noticed. He’d always done his best to blend in, not stand out. It was awkward.

But then, they had a reason to watch him if they knew what he was planning. He was going to sneak into the castle. After all, no matter what was happening here, there was one person guaranteed to be in there that would know exactly what was going on. The Great Kilgharrah himself. The telepathic call was still sounding in his head, and now Merlin could feel it pulling straight from the old cave itself as though there was no other place it could have been all along.

And this time Merlin wouldn’t be tricked or dissuaded by the dragon’s normal riddle speech. He would get a direct answer this time. If he didn’t feel like talking, Merlin could always force him… although that would only further the dragon’s distaste for him. He did seem to think Merlin used his dragonlord abilities for personal gain. Merlin would have to be careful of what he revealed during this conversation. If the dragon knew how out of the loop Merlin was, he would no doubt tease him until Merlin became too aggravated to care anymore.

And there was someone else, someone he would run to as soon as the dragon explained what the hell was going on. That was Arthur. No matter what kind of strangeness was plaguing the city, Merlin had to find Arthur and protect him – or save him, whichever the case may be.

“Oh!” Merlin gasped as a door opened in his face and pushed him back onto his butt.

“I’m sorry!” A young girl exclaimed, hurriedly setting down the basket of clothing she was holding and closing the door. She looked like she wanted to kneel down by Merlin, but something kept her from it. “Oh,” she said and an ashamed smile crossed her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Merlin asked. He pushed himself up onto his feet and grimaced. He recognized that sticky feeling. He’d fallen in soft pile of horse manure. “Oh that’s just perfect,” Merlin moaned. There was no way he’d be able to sneak into the castle now.

“I can help,” the young girl said, slipping her hand into Merlin’s. She quickly pulled back again and blushed, a light pink dusting her dark cheeks. “S-Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

“Hm?” Merlin looked over her. Dark brown curls to her shoulders, brown skin the color of chocolate, shy eyes and a sweet heart. He’d never seen this girl before, but something told him… “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Guinevere,” she replied without much thought and then blushed further. “Follow me and I’ll help you with your trousers. Okay?”

“Okay. How old are you?” Merlin asked. Guinevere. This couldn’t be his Guinevere. She was too young.

“I’m twelve years old as of last harvest,” Guinevere informed him. “But don’t worry, sir. I can help you. Yes.”

“No doubt about that.” Merlin pressed his lips together as he followed the small girl back to a very familiar house. “Your father is Tom, the blacksmith?”

“Yes! Poor sir knows father?” Guinevere asked, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, not to say you’re poor, sir. I just meant you weren’t a real ‘Sir.’ Not that you couldn’t be one. I know I-I didn’t ask you if you were. You just don’t look like one.”

“It’s alright, Gwen,” Merlin assured with a smile before she could continue and confuse herself. But at his words, she looked even more confused. Merlin’s smile grew nervous and he fumbled. “Is… it alright if I call you Gwen?”

“My friends call me Gwen.” And she moved over to a small dresser. “I like new friends. You can call me Gwen too.” From the dresser she pulled a pair of pants that looked similar to Merlin’s. “Would you mind putting these on? Then I can wash the ones you are wearing.”

Merlin nodded and took the new pants from her. He stood in the bedroom, a slight curtain blocking him from view, and quickly changed his clothes. This may be his Gwen, it certainly seemed to be her, and he didn’t feel comfortable being partially naked in front of her. When he had changed, he noticed the pants fit rather well and were almost a match for his own.

“Whose clothes am I wearing?” he asked, walking out to the main area where he found Gwen and a wash pot.

“Big brother Elyan’s,” Gwen said. That settled it. This was Gwen, the same one who helped him oust the witchfinder and save Camelot. But she was so young! There was no time to waste. Merlin had to see the dragon now.

“How long do you think it will be before my pants are clean?” Merlin set the dirty article near her and she quickly snatched it up to begin working.

“Maybe… three hours?” Gwen guessed. “It’s a warm and sunny day.”

Merlin bit his lip. Three hours? And that was if the sun dried them fast enough. Well, Merlin could quicken the process of drying with magic… but he was in the waning of the hunts. People had just witnessed a burning this morning. He would need to be very careful or very patient.

“Do you need any help around the house?”  
\-- -- -- -- --

Five hours passed before Merlin took real notice. He’d been obnoxiously aware of the hour of day for the first ten minutes but had lost himself in helping Gwen. So far he had helped tidy up the house, since he knew the layout already and had a pretty good idea where her few possessions went, he’d helped her hang the laundry, which she had been taking out when she’d knocked him over, and he’d fixed the front door, which had been about to fall off. His most recent task was sweeping out the entryway to clear it of straw and hay from the nearby stables and goat herder.

He didn’t notice the time until Gwen was walking up to him, her head reading his stomach, and presented him with a plate of lunch – a meager but generous portion of ham and cheese.

“Oh, thank you, Gwen, but I can’t eat all of that,” Merlin said. He could have eaten twice the amount, but times were hard and he wasn’t going to take their food.

“We can eat it together?” Gwen asked, her adorable blush returning to grace her cheeks. Merlin smiled at that and couldn’t say no to her.

“So what do you do here in Camelot besides being the sweetest lady in town?” Merlin asked as they ate at the table inside.

Gwen giggled. “I’m not a lady!” she cried. “And most days see me at work in the castle!”

“Oh?” Merlin thought back to the boy in the woods. The children were so excitable here, or… he supposed here was still Camelot, and this was still Gwen, but she got excited so easily. “Are you a chef?”

“No no no,” Gwen answered, shaking her head. “I follow Brenda, the chambermaid for Lady Morgana. Brenda says I’ll take over when she thinks I’m ready. It’s a very important position.”

“That it is. And you will be a splendid helper and friend,” Merlin said. “One day, the two of you will risk your lives for each other.”

“Oh my,” Gwen gasped and blushed for a whole new reason. “Oh no. You really… You really think she’ll like me that much?”

“I’m positive. And you will meet a handsome man and fall in love, and if he ever gets over his fears, you may be his queen.”

Perhaps he’d revealed too much, for Gwen covered her ears and began to shake her head wildly, her face a dark red. For a minute, Merlin thought he’d angered her, but when she focused her gaze back on him, she looked more frightened.

“Oh no no,” she said again. “I-I don’t want to be queen. That’s so much work! And to be queen, I’d have to marry the prince!”

“You don’t want to marry the prince?” Merlin asked.

“He’s… scary,” Gwen admitted, looking away in shame.

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. Gwen didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to give her courage. Merlin pat her on the shoulder and continued to snicker. Arthur’s future love was scared of him. If that wasn’t ironic, he didn’t know what was. And so he spent another half an hour talking and eating with his would-be best friend before they headed outside to retrieve the laundry.

The sun had been kind, and everything was clean and dry, including Merlin’s pants. When he had changed back into his own clothes, he thanked Gwen, but she thanked him several more times. Then, before Tom could return home and demand to know what he was doing in his house, Merlin said goodbye to the young Guinevere and continued on his trek to the castle.

If Guinevere was as young as she said she was and was also who she said she was, then Merlin would have had to have fallen back in time by about eight years. If this really was the past, Merlin was out there somewhere as an awkward adolescent thirteen year old. If he really was eight years in the past, Arthur would be fourteen.

Merlin flashed back on the rambunctious boy in the woods. He’d been dressed like a farmer, but he’d called himself Arthur Pendragon and certainly had the attitude for it. Could the honestly have been Arthur? How had he been out in the woods alone? Were the knights eight years ago completely daft? Arthur was only fourteen! Merlin didn’t care how much Arthur had been ‘trained to kill since birth.’ He was still the future king, and the knights should have noticed he was missing.

Or that kid really could have been some big dreaming farm boy. But that was probably unlikely. The only way to find out would be to see the dragon. So Merlin walked into the castle as though he were headed to see the court physician and then diverted his path and headed for the cells. No one glanced twice at him. He was no one important, save for the bandages on his head. Some guards were still in the courtyard, clearing up the burn pile and disposing of the ashes. Merlin did his best not to even look in that direction. There hadn’t been a burning since his arrival in Camelot, although it had been tried a few times, and he didn’t want to look at what could possibly be his future fate. Except that the dragon had said prophesy claimed he would live to see Arthur become king and unite the lands of Albion, but it was always a possibility if he screwed up.

It seemed the guards who usually watched the cells were among those out in the courtyard, and Merlin slipped past their post without a hassle. It was only when he’d grabbed a torch and stood above the opening to the dragon’s lair that he stopped. The guards wouldn’t be distracted forever, but a strange sense stopped him. He could smell the damp and cold, the years of containment. He could smell the scent of the reptilian hide. It was an unpleasant scent, and he covered his nose in spite of himself.

It had been a long year since his last descent into the caves. Tentatively, he took the first step down, then another and another, and then he was half sprinting down the steps and through the passage that would lead him to the great cavern of the dragon.

“I perceive I am treated to a surprising guest,” Kilgharrah spoke as soon as Merlin rounded the corner.

“I have to admit, that’s not what I was expecting to hear,” Merlin admitted. He bent down and set his torch on the rocks by his feet.

“Oh? And what would you have preferred, young warlock?” Kilgharrah folded his great front legs before him, like a patient lion.

“I don’t know, but the first time I came to visit you, it was a lot of shadowy words and a grand, flying entrance.” Merlin waved his hands around in the mock motions of a magician.

The dragon’s deep voice laughed and echoed from the walls. “Oh yes, but that is yet to come,” he said.

Merlin frowned. “So it’s true then,” he said. “I am in the past.”

“Quite so,” the dragon affirmed, nodding his great head. “Precisely on schedule. The prophecies never lie.”

“So you knew, or you will know, when I first met you. You knew this had already happened?” Merlin asked, feeling the betrayal bubble up in his chest.

“I will,” Kilgharrah replied. “But what importance does such information hold? Whatever secrets I have kept from you until this point about this meeting are meaningless. There is nothing that can be done to change that. You linger on unimportant details.”

Merlin pressed his lips together and felt the anger subsiding. He nodded. Kilgharrah was right. He didn’t really have time or energy to waste on getting upset over the dragon’s many secrets. There was something much more important taking place.

“Why have I been pulled into the past?” he asked.

“For what other purpose does anything happen than so that you can fulfill your destiny?” the dragon replied.

“But my destiny is to protect Arthur,” Merlin said.

“I fail to see your point.” How was it possible that the dragon always looked so smug as he sat there, chained to a rock?

“Well how am I supposed to protect his future if I’m stuck in the past?” Merlin asked. He threw his arms out and spoke as if this was an obvious blunder on destiny’s part.

“Does it not stand to reason that you have been brought back to help the young prince here, at this moment?” Kilgharrah mused. He seemed to have read Merlin’s thoughts and had not been pleased with his findings.

“But Arthur’s life wasn’t in danger when he was fourteen. I know. He definitely would have bragged about it before now.” Merlin dropped his hands to his sides in exasperation.

“Perhaps you are not meant to defend him this time. Perhaps the danger is from somewhere else. Consider you moves carefully, Merlin, for you have seen many years more than the prince you will encounter. For once, it will be you who knows the secrets of the future. Do not abuse that power.” Kilgharrah took a deep breath that sounded a lot like the end of a conversation.

“What does that mean?” Merlin asked, knowing his time was short. The dragon blinked its huge eyes at him and slowly let out its breath.

“I suggest you spend the afternoon down here, Merlin. You need to think of the future to come, and the guards have returned from the burning and will catch you if you leave before they change shifts again.”

Then, without answering Merlin or waiting for Merlin to answer, the great beast stretched out its huge wings, tightened its strong legs, and took off into the great expanse of the cave. Merlin pressed his lips together in annoyance.

“You know,” he called loudly into the cave, “Uther could have been a true tyrant and made your chain too short to do that!”

He heard a distant echoing snort, but he received no other response. Knowing Kilgharrah was right and the guards would be back by now, Merlin grunted and found a place to sit at the top of the stairs that led down and over to the place where the dragon was chained. It was time to hunker down for the longest afternoon of his life.


	3. The Problem

When darkness had fallen in Camelot, the great dragon retook his place near Merlin. He said nothing, but did tilt his head toward the surface. Merlin took this to mean it was safe to leave now. He stood up and dusted off his pants, but the dragon stopped him before he could leave.

“One last thing,” he said. “You must hurry, but the journey you must complete cannot be taken with a wound such as the one you carry.”

As soon as he saw the giant jaws open wide, Merlin closed his eyes and held his breath. The heat of a dragon’s breath rushed over him and pushed straight through to his bones. It was the same magical breath that taught Merlin ancient magic in times of need, only this time it taught him nothing. Instead, he felt a tingle on the side of his head and then the breath stopped. In the aftermath, the bandages from this morning flittered and slid from his head, landing in a sloppy pile on the ground. Merlin reached up and touched where his wound had been but now felt nothing.

“Thank you,” he said and picked up his torch. With a flash of gold, he reignited it. “One more thing from me, though. How do I get back to my time?”

“You will find your way once your purpose here has been fulfilled. Now hurry before destiny misses you.” And something about the way the dragon was smirking when he said that left an uneasy feeling in Merlin’s gut.

Sneaking out was almost as easy as sneaking in. The guards had left to find their late replacements and the pathway back to the surface was empty. Merlin took the stairs two at a time and ducked behind a wall when he got to the top. The two new guards were coming and meandered lazily down the stairs, never aware of Merlin. As efficient as always, Merlin noted.

When he stepped out into the courtyard and saw the open starry sky, Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he felt calm, and then something heavy dropped onto his shoulders, knocking him to the ground, and the weight crashed forcefully down onto his back, pinning him.

“Ow. Meant to do that,” a young and familiar voice grunted quietly, talking to itself.

Merlin groaned. So this was what the dragon had meant with his smug farewell. Well destiny definitely hadn’t missed him, though he partially wished it had, just by an inch or two. His grunt startled the young boy on his back, who quickly jumped off him and moved several paces away to assess who he’d landed on.

“Hey, you’re that idiot from this morning,” he said, keeping his voice hushed. “What are you doing beneath my window? And where is your wound?”

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to in the middle of the night, little prince of Camelot?” Merlin rebuked in the same volume. He pushed himself back onto his knees and rolled his shoulders. “That really hurt.”

“Yeah? Well you deserved it for sneaking around after dark, idiot. And I’m going nowhere. Don’t follow me.”

Arthur adjusted the satchel that Merlin had seen this morning and made it rest comfortably around his shoulders. Then he began to quickly creep through the courtyard toward the exit. Merlin pursed his lips and hurried to follow. This little brat was starting to get on his nerves.

At the edge of the next building, Arthur turned on him. “I said don’t follow me,” he hissed. “Can’t you follow orders?”

“How can I follow you if you’re not going anywhere?” Merlin asked. “I just happen to be going to the same place as you.”

“The phrase is ‘going the same direction as you’ not ‘to the same place’. Argh, that’s not important. Stay here,” Arthur ordered, his whisper trying to be harsh but only sounding breathy.

“What, so the guards can arrest me for kidnapping the prince when they realize you’re gone?” Merlin asked. “No thanks.”

And even though the prince was eight years younger, Merlin still recognized the spark of a mischievous and probably bad idea forming in Arthur’s eyes. Teen Arthur smiled devilishly.

“I have it,” he said, reminding Merlin of Arthur from that morning – or was it yesterday morning? “You’re going to help me get out of the city.”

“Why on Earth would I do that?” Merlin asked. “You’re crazy.”

“Because,” Arthur said with a shrug of his shoulders, “otherwise I’ll call the guards and have you thrown in the dungeons.”

Arthur looked calm and smug, but Merlin knew he wouldn’t actually do it. The guards would take in Arthur, dressed again as a peasant and carrying a bag full of supplies, and know instantly that he was lying. Even if they ignored those facts and did as Arthur said, it would spoil Arthur’s plans to get out of the city. Merlin still didn’t know where the little brat was planning to go, but he would die before he let Arthur go alone.

“Fine,” he said.

Merlin didn’t think he’d ever seen Arthur look so relieved.

\-- -- --

“Why are you still following me?” Arthur complained loudly as they entered the woods.

“I’m not letting you go off by yourself, Arthur,” Merlin scolded. “It’s the middle of the night, in the middle of the woods, going to the middle of nowhere.”

“I am not going to the middle of nowhere. What do you think I am, an idiot?” Arthur asked, stopping and turning to look at Merlin. “And don’t call me Arthur. People will recognize me if you do.”

Merlin sighed and shook his head. “Then where are you going, almighty traveler?”

Arthur hesitated, and he looked even younger under the light of the moon with the trees behind him. He looked lost and afraid, like a drawing in a children’s book meant to make you feel nervous. Merlin frowned. If he didn’t know this was Arthur, he may have tried to hug him or something. But young or grown, Arthur was Arthur and he wouldn’t appreciate that.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur finally said, turning back to the path. “But I’ve been in every other direction, so I’m heading East.”

“Toward Cenred’s kingdom?” Merlin asked, trotting up to stand beside Arthur.

“He won’t know who I am. Everything will work out,” Arthur said and began to walk. He seemed to be trying to convince himself more than Merlin.

“I don’t think it’s safe. Maybe you should just turn around and forget this whole thing.” Merlin paused by a large tree, its branches reaching up and blocking out the moon so that he was cast into shadow.

“Never!” Arthur snapped loudly, like the very idea was disgusting. Merlin felt that energy push right through him. “I’m not going back, so quit trying to stop me from leaving!”

Merlin bit his lip and toyed with it between his teeth. The dragon must have known what was going to happen tonight. Arthur was running away… forever, and Merlin had no idea why. How could he convince Arthur to go back where it was safe, where his destiny was, if he was so determined to leave? Arthur was a handful as an adult. How could Merlin hope to handle a teenager?

“Alright,” he agreed, and Arthur seemed to tremble as if waiting to be rebuked. Then his face cleared and he looked at Merlin’s shadowy form in confusion. “There’s a town, perfect for starting over, right on the edge of the border.”

“Liar,” Arthur said, turning and staring into the darkness of the forest. He ground his heel into the dirt nervously and slipped a tiny map from his pocket. “You’ll probably lead me in a circle and try to break down my resolve.”

“No,” Merlin said, tapping his fingers on the bark of a trunk. He shook his head. “I grew up there. My father ran away there too. He met my mother and fell in love. The people will welcome you. You’ll be safe there.”

At the word safe, Arthur closed his map and turned back to face Merlin. His eyebrows were knit in thought and skepticism, and he tried to size Merlin up in the darkness.

“And you’ll lead me there, no tricks?” he asked.

Merlin smiled. “No tricks.” He stepped from the shadows, his hand grazing the tree bark, and stepped up to Arthur. With less difficulty than he imagined, he lowered himself to kneel in front of the small prince and took his hand. “I will personally lead you to Ealdor and protect you until we get there or until you have no need of me. I am your loyal servant.”

If Arthur hadn’t looked young and adorable before, he definitely did now as the embarrassment flooded his face. His mouth pressed together, fighting back an undoubtedly stuttered reply, and his eyes changed direction to look off into the dirt.

“Y-Yeah,” he muttered. He pulled his hand from Merlin’s and faced away again. “You can lead me, but keep all that mushy stuff to yourself. Just … start walking already.”

“As you wish, sire,” Merlin agreed, standing again. He couldn’t help but grin. A flustered Arthur was not a common sight when not mentioning his love life, and that Arthur was brash and defensive. This one was young and pubescent – nervous. He’d never had anyone personally swear fealty to him before, and Merlin felt pride at being the first. He wasn’t meant to enter Arthur’s life for another six years, and here he was making his mark already.

As Merlin came up beside Arthur, the young prince began to walk, and Merlin walked in step with him. They were shadows of each other, even now before their bonding. Merlin felt purposeful as they stepped carefully through the trees. He had to convince Arthur to return to the city, and he had to convince him it was his idea. He honestly couldn’t imagine a life without Arthur, and he wouldn’t let Arthur himself change a fate like that. The moon shone through the leaves onto Merlin’s skin and marked the time around midnight. Merlin nodded. It was a two day ride to Ealdor. Three or four days walk. It wasn’t much time, but nature and destiny were on his side. This would work.  
\-- -- --

When the sun had risen over the horizon and they had risen from the brief sleeping spell Arthur had allowed, the day found Arthur and Merlin trekking down a well worn path through the woods that Merlin knew like his own hand even though it was several years younger than the one he’d travelled. Arthur was throwing his weight around and kicking any bush that ‘got in his way’, and Merlin was continuously shocked by how ungraceful and knowledgeable Arthur was about traveling. How often had Arthur dragged him into the woods and shown amazing directional skills, hunting skills, and overall confidence? Was it possible this kid really wasn’t Arthur? He had the personality, but he might as well have never stepped outside his room before for all the prowess he was showing.

“How far until this amazing village of yours?” Arthur complained at around ten in the morning.

“It’s about three days walk,” Merlin replied, holding back some branches for the tiny prince and his bag of goodies.

“Three days?!” Arthur whined. “What, you couldn’t steal a horse while you were sneaking into the castle?”

“Why? Are you in a hurry?” Merlin asked and released the branch behind Arthur. He took a deep breath of the air. The path wasn’t quite as cleared as it would be in six years, but it was still beautiful and familiar. He didn’t let himself feel excited, though. He couldn’t go to Ealdor even if they made it all the way there. It was too risky.

“No, but I can’t walk on the main path for three days. Obviously, I may be recognized. Can you find the way through the unmarked wilderness?” the blonde asked, walking closer to the trees and eyeing the undergrowth for dangers.

“Arthur, what is wrong with you?” Merlin asked, stopping in his tracks to confront his lord. Arthur froze and grunted.

“I told you not to call me that. Seriously, someone’s going to catch me if you don’t stop talking like an idiot. Can’t you come up with a nickname or something?” he groaned, waving in Merlin’s direction and speaking like Merlin was the child instead of him.

“Nickname?” Merlin repeated. He could think of a few, but even as this spur-of-the-moment child, Merlin doubted Arthur would appreciate them. Not the mention, anyone who heard Merlin calling a child one of his many ‘nicknames’ for Arthur would probably find him to be socially unacceptable. Arthur didn’t have nicknames. It just didn’t happen.

“Yeah. That’s right. I need a new name,” Arthur said, nodding his head and letting a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Something clever and witty and befitting someone of my grandeur and ability… I have it! Archimedes!”

Merlin watched Arthur carefully, his eyebrow raised in an obvious state of disbelief. He cleared his throat and relaxed his expression. “Archimedes?” he asked. “Where did you pull that from?”

Arthur shrugged. “Some old book in the library that my mother apparently used to love. It was the name of a magical and wise falcon.”

“Uh oh. Does your father know you were reading about magical birds?” Merlin asked, taking a step or two. Arthur groaned and walked ahead.

“Do you have to ruin every conversation?” he asked bitterly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Just shut up and get a move on,” Arthur said with a sigh and motioned for Merlin to take the lead.

“Of course, Archie,” Merlin said and stepped off into the woods as Arthur had wanted. He could lead them to Ealdor from Caerleon through the clouds if Arthur had wanted him to. He would always be able to find his home.

“What did you call me? Hey!” Arthur called after him, but received no response. Merlin just kept trekking off into the unmarked trail. “H-Hey! Wait for me, idiot!” and Arthur bounded off into the bushes after him as quickly as his shorter legs would allow.


	4. The Truth

They stopped when the sun began to set. There was a shade to the trees that grew much quicker than anything out in the open fields. Merlin gathered the wood while Arthur set about arranging the sticks in ‘the best possible position for a hearty fire’, or so he’d explained. Since Merlin usually made the fires during their trips, he wasn’t sure how good at this task a younger Arthur would be. Still, he could at least let the tiny prince have a go at it. If it didn’t work, Merlin would take over.

When Merlin returned to the camp, he saw Arthur snapping two flint stones together, trying to get a spark to land on the tiny pile of sticks Merlin had dropped down earlier before heading to find bigger stuff. Arthur was having some trouble with getting it to work. The only spark he managed to get landed deftly on a rock. Merlin pressed his lips together, going so far unnoticed.

Arthur Pendragon was a great hunter, swordsman, and warrior. Yet here he was, unable to trek through the woods on his own and unable to light a simple fire. What happened in the next eight years that would change this mishap into the ruffian Merlin knew?

And then Merlin saw it. Arthur wasn’t having trouble making the fire. Well, he was, but not because he didn’t know how. He really had laid out the sticks nicely. He’d created a wall of stones around it to stop the fire from spreading. He was striking the stones the right way. What was keeping him from succeeding was the shaking. Every twig snapping in the far off darkness made his head flinch to check for danger. Ever echo of a waking owl had him on edge. The shadows were growing, and little prince Arthur was scared.

“Archie,” Merlin spoke up to announce his presence. Arthur snapped his gaze around and then gripped the flint tightly to pretend he hadn’t been failing just a moment ago. “Can’t get the wood to light?”

“No,” Arthur replied, frowning deeply in that all too familiar way. “I think the sticks are too wet.”

“Oh?” Merlin asked. He set down the utterly dry stuff he’d just grabbed and pat his palm down on the fire pit. No hint of moisture caught him. He already knew this would be the case, but he had to humor Arthur. “Well maybe we can find something else to make it light?”

“Don’t be stupid. You can’t make fire from wet sticks, and this flint isn’t going to cut it. We’ll just… have to go without the fire,” Arthur decided. All this because he couldn’t admit he was scared?

Merlin fell onto his bottom and dangled his hand off his knee. Arthur reclined on the grass, flint stones still in hand. He had a short sword poking out of his bag two feet off just in case of emergencies. That was definitely something Arthur would do. Merlin had gotten into the habit of carrying one whenever he left the city as well, but in this time he had no access to swords and Arthur had only brought the one. That was fine. Merlin still had his magic to protect Arthur with.

Arthur’s body was lithe, much smaller than the one Merlin had come to know. The muscles were there but not as pronounced. The seriousness had not yet hardened into his eyes. His hair was a might bit too long. It was definitely Arthur, but at the same time it definitely wasn’t. Merlin looked at the skinny prince and was almost sad that life would change this innocence into hatred.

“Arthur, why are you running away from home?” Merlin asked.

The prince glared at the grass and said nothing. The call of two night fowl arched into the woods, causing Arthur to tense. His eyes glanced to the fire pit and the missing fire, a symbol of warmth and security on a trek such as this. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek and then nodded.

“If I told you I could get the fire going, would you tell me why you left?” he asked. Arthur scoffed.

“If I can’t make the flint work, what makes you think you can do any better? You’d need a miracle or magic to make it work, and unfortunately we have neither,” the blonde said in a hardened tone.

Merlin smiled. “You believe in miracles… and you wouldn’t mind if a druid strolled up and lit the fire for us?” Arthur’s cheeks flushed crimson in the remaining light.

“Don’t be such an idiot. If a druid came up here, I’d probably stick him with my sword before he could even think of using his magic,” he said. His tone was negative, but he’d turned away to say it, to hide his expression.

“Do you mind magic, my lord?” Merlin asked, keeping his voice low. Arthur was right on one point. Telling the world that this boy was Arthur Pendragon, out and about without an escort, was asking for trouble. Maybe it would really be best to only call Arthur by the new nickname.

“What?” Arthur asked, turning back to face Merlin. He looked conflicted. “Mind magic? Of course… I mean, I don’t know.”

“Archie,” Merlin began, but Arthur seemed to tense more at the name, and he cut Merlin off.

“Would you stop talking?” Arthur growled. “I swear, you open your mouth and idiocy just spills out. I thought old people were supposed to be wise.”

“Are you afraid of the dark, Archimedes?” Merlin asked, voice caring and quiet. His eyes drifted down to the firepit.

“What?” Arthur asked. He opened his mouth to make a further comment, probably something about not fearing anything, but the words caught in his throat.

Merlin breathed onto his hand in a language unknown to many people. As he pulled it away, a flame hovered in his hand. Merlin held it gently while he let Arthur take in a full sight of it. The prince’s eyes had never been so wide, so transfixed. He watched with greedy wonder. Merlin understood this to be a good sign. Then the wizard lowered his hand to the fire pit and rubbed his palm over the sticks, which instantly caught the flames. Merlin watched until the fire had completely left his hands. He raised his gaze back to Arthur, but found the young man tackling him to the ground instead of watching in awe.

Arthur pinned Merlin down, strong even as a budding teenager. When Merlin tried to lift his head, Arthur pushed it back down with one hand. Arthur looked around, eyeing the dark suspiciously and without the fear from before. Merlin held his tongue. Okay, perhaps that had been a bit too much? What would Arthur do now? Would he forsake Merlin and try to make the journey alone?

“Such an idiot,” Arthur hissed, gently pressing Merlin’s face into the dirt and then removing his hands so Merlin could at least move his head without obstruction. “What do you think you’re doing, showing me that? Out in the open? Do you want to die?! What if someone saw you?!”

Merlin shrugged. “I trusted you,” he said. “You would protect me.”

“I would protect you?” Arthur asked in confused awe. “You’re the mighty magician, not me. You should be protecting me.” He shoved Merlin’s head down again and then removed himself from the tangle.

“Every day,” Merlin agreed, sitting up and dusting off his hair.

“What was that?” Arthur asked, moving to sit back by his bag of goods. Merlin laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees.

“Until the end of time, I will protect you,” Merlin said. Arthur set a steady gaze on him, and Merlin smiled easily. “I was told it was my destiny.”

“Shit destiny. Do you have any idea what you’re signing up for?” Arthur asked, voice bored. He rubbed his hands together to get the dirt off and then scooted closer to the fire.

“I think I have an idea,” Merlin said. “Don’t worry.”

Arthur turned his head to look into the forest, ignoring Merlin for a good while. It occurred to Merlin that he was hardly ever like this with an older Arthur. He felt so close, so bonded to his prince, and yet if he spoke like this to Arthur every day, Arthur would undoubtedly laugh at him and grow tired of it. It was an awfully wise and aged way of speaking, and it reminded Merlin almost of the elder druids or the great dragon himself. Merlin had always hated it from the dragon but understood it from the druids. He wondered if Arthur disliked it. Merlin was so close to Arthur, and yet he wasn’t sure. He wanted to say Arthur would appreciate it. The prince had welcomed Merlin’s council on a few occasions. However, he’d probably grow annoyed by it quickly if Merlin did it every day. Would there ever be a day when Arthur thought there was more to Merlin than being a silly servant?

When would the day come when Arthur admitted aloud that Merlin was a friend, not just to Merlin but in public? Would the day come when Arthur could tell the knights that Merlin wasn’t his servant? On that note, when would the day come when Merlin wasn’t a servant anymore? He hadn’t come to Camelot to be a servant. He’d come to learn about magic and himself. How long until Arthur knew the truth, accepted him, and understood him? Merlin wanted nothing more than he wanted to stand beside Arthur as someone the king trusted and loved unconditionally. He could not wait until that day.

“Listen,” Arthur spoke up, drawing Merlin back. “I know my father says magic is evil, but why? What has it ever done to me? When I was little, my nanny used to use magic. She never hurt me or anyone else… so why should I hate magic?” Arthur pushed himself to a straight up sitting position and hung his arms on his knees in a similar fashion to Merlin.

The warmth inside of Merlin was tinted in ice. Arthur didn’t hate magic. He didn’t understand the hatred, and that was such a nice thing to hear. And yet it was cold. The Arthur that Merlin met and bonded with in the future, that Arthur did hate magic. That Arthur wasn’t ready to know he’d had a magician beside him for years. Merlin wasn’t sure when he’d be ready, but he wasn’t yet. All Merlin could hope for was that he wasn’t part of the reason Arthur started to distrust magicians… because being the cause of Arthur’s hatred definitely didn’t fit the bill of fulfilling his destiny, and he would hate to hurt Arthur like that.

“Magic is a dangerous thing,” Merlin said. Arthur locked his young blue eyes on Merlin’s shadowed form and saw the way the light danced against him. Merlin looked him straight in the eyes. “In an angry man, magic can cause terrible things to happen. Fields can spoil. Water can turn to sand. An angry man plots revenge… but a frightened man… A frightened man is much more dangerous.”

Frightened like Mordred and Gilli, like Alice… Frightened like Morgana. Merlin frowned and stared into the fire, suddenly unable to hold the young prince’s gaze.

“A frightened man,” he continued quieter, humbler, “is capable of frightful things. Out of fear and desperation, a sorcerer can kill a dozen men without meaning to.”

“So magic is something to be feared?” Arthur asked, his tone saddened. Merlin shook his head and wiped at his dry eyes.

“No,” he said. “No, magic is a thing to be taught and trained. Magic is something that takes great concentration and will power. Magic is not a choice but a birthright, and I did not choose to have it anymore than you chose to be a prince.”

“I would not have chosen to be prince, or if I had, I would have chosen a different king,” Arthur murmured, and Merlin watched as the boy’s eyes rimmed with water and he quickly hid them in his folded arms.

“Archie,” Merlin sighed and stood up. He moved over to Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You want to know why I left?” Arthur asked, muffled by his sleeve. He sniffled and lifted his eyes, sad and determined and angry, to look at Merlin. “I left because of _that man_. I will not serve under a king like him.”


	5. The Grudge

The night was dark like a deep shadow. Merlin wished they’d had stars to see by, but they couldn’t risk a fire all night for fear of being noticed and the trees blocked out all starlight. Merlin sat by the smoldering embers, the only remnants of their magical flames, and waited. Arthur had been off kicking trees for over an hour. He hadn’t explained himself or detailed his declaration at all, but had snatched up his sword and hurried out of sight to release his tension on the forest. If Merlin hadn’t caught his arm before the first swing, Arthur would have slammed his blade into the bark of a tree, ruining it. So instead, Arthur kicked things and refused to speak to Merlin.

It had been over an hour, and Merlin just waited. He kept his ears listening for Arthur’s grunts of frustration to keep lookout on his location. He knew Arthur wouldn’t go far on purpose, but he didn’t know about on accident. He was also listening for bandits. Cenred was notorious, in Merlin’s experience, for sending half an army out to attack travelers on the road. The times may be a decade early, but Merlin doubted Cenred of all people would be any different.

Merlin heard Arthur fall over when his kick missed its target. Leaves rustled and scattered. In a way, leaving to throw the tantrum was very kingly. He wasn’t in view, and he was being rather quiet about it. If there had been something else to make noise, Arthur may have been hidden in the din. However, even most of the forest had shut up for Arthur. An owl hooted on the right. A whippoorwill called out on the left.

Arthur announced his presence by chucking a rock into the center of the fire pit. Sparks hissed an inch into the air. Merlin flinched and turned to look at the approaching prince. Arthur dropped down to his butt by his pack of goods and sighed. Merlin wanted to speak, but he wasn't sure where to begin. Arthur was leaving because of Uther. Should Merlin approve that, as he so much wanted to, or tell Arthur that his father had a point? The path was a toss up. How did the druids and the dragon know exactly what to say all the time? And then his lips tugged up at a thought. They probably had no better idea than Merlin did right now.

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked, sounding bored once again.

"I'm sorry?" Merlin asked in return, which must have been the stupidest thing he'd said all day.

"You. You showed up in the forest this morning, and then you say it's your destiny to help me. You came out of nowhere. Why are you here?" Arthur asked again.

Merlin pursed his lips. "I didn't really have a choice to be here or not. I was doing my job, and then destiny decided I needed to come here. I guess it knew you were trying to do something stupid, like navigate an unfamiliar territory in the enemy kingdom in the middle of the night."

"Watch it," Arthur warned, but Merlin saw his face relaxing, almost smiling. The blonde child leaned back and squinted up at the pitch black sky. "So... say you could pick. I mean, if you could choose to follow a certain kind of king for the rest of your life – what kind of king would you imagine he’d be?”

Merlin looked over this Arthur: small, growing, uncertain, unprepared, innocent. In the darkness, he was a shaded figure, unclear, and Merlin let his memory fill in the gaps. Arthur was strong, confident, arrogant, handsome, and fool hardy. What kind of king would Merlin like to follow?

“I don’t have to imagine,” Merlin breathed out, but in the silence of the night he was easily heard. He cleared his throat and spoke normal. “The guy I work for… he’d make a pretty good king. He’s good looking and strong. He likes to hunt and earn glory. He’s kind of an arrogant git, but he’s grown so much since I first met him, and I’m still discovering sides of him. He’s kind to his people and loyal to his friends, to his king. He doesn’t always agree with what his king does, but he loves his king. He understands the hardships that come from leading a kingdom.”

“Are we talking about your ideal king or giving me a moral lesson?” Arthur asked.

“A bit of both,” Merlin admitted with a slight laugh. “See, to be a good king means more than just being kind to people or giving them everything they want. You have to know what is best in the long run and think about the future, not just about now. You have to account for an entire kingdom’s protection and safety and take responsibility for their actions. It’s not an easy job.”

“You’re trying to say I should understand my father,” Arthur grunted. “Do you even know what he’s doing?”

“I know what he’s done,” Merlin answered. He knew of the massive witch hunt around Arthur’s birth and the slaughtering of the dragons. As for this very moment, Merlin had no answers, but he knew what had already happened.

“He’s murdering hundreds of innocent people,” Arthur explained. He gave Merlin a hard look. “He’s killing people who even speak to magic users, as if they have something to do with the sorcerer’s existence. He’s burning his own people. What kind of king is that to follow?”

Merlin sighed and frowned thoughtfully. He didn’t much like Uther either. Convincing Arthur to go back to him almost felt like cheating himself, like lying… but he knew Arthur had to go back. In fact, he knew Arthur did go back. Merlin must succeed, because in the future Arthur still lived as the prince and soon to be king. Thinking on that, Merlin felt confidence bloom in him.

“The kind to be pitied,” Merlin said, voice almost as hard as Arthur’s stare. It shocked Arthur, and the little prince showed it openly on his face. “When a man knows nothing but fear and anger… what kind of life is that but one to be pitied?”

Arthur didn’t know how to answer, and the night went out like the fire.  
\-- -- -- -- --

In the morning sun, the river gleamed like gold from a distance. Under Merlin’s close inspection, it was just average water. He stared down into it, watching the stream rush by him, and tried to focus his eyes on a bit of color glittering from the bottom. It was red and pointy, probably worthless but dazzling to watch. It reminded Merlin of something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

“Hazzah!” came a cry and Merlin gasped as he was chucked forth into the knee deep water. It was cold and fast, and before he caught his footing, Merlin had been dragged several feet downstream. He came spluttering to the surface and held onto the side of the bank for support.

“What was that for?!” he screamed and then coughed harshly.

Arthur was most definitely giggling in a very unkingly manner. “That was for being the most unwise old man I’ve ever met.”

“Old man?” Merlin grunted, pulling himself half out of the water. His eyes narrowed in thought.

“Anywhere I wanted to go, Father always took me there. Well, except for one time I was accompanied by an old man instead.”

“Old man?”

By the gods, Arthur had told Merlin about this trip. He’d mentioned it right to Merlin, and neither of them had even noticed! For Merlin it was understandable. He hadn’t known the journey yet, but Arthur should have known. How did Arthur not recognize him from day one?... On second thought, memory was a funny thing. Arthur had probably built Merlin up as this wise old fool in his mind, someone truly old. Meeting Merlin, who was the same age as him, wouldn’t have sparked any thoughts unless he wondered if Merlin was the old man’s son. Hm… being his own son. That would be interesting.

Merlin frowned. He saw his Arthur in every movement of this young prince, no matter how unlike Arthur it was… and yet Arthur didn’t remember him in the future beyond being an old man. Arthur was so dense. He never noticed anything important. Nothing Merlin did was ever of consequence to Arthur, but Merlin knew everything about Arthur. He knew everything: from his clothes to his jewelry to his-

“Arthur?” Merlin murmured, brow knitting together in thought.

“Thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that in public,” Arthur said. Merlin jumped and looked up, finding the prince surprisingly close to him. Merlin had barely noticed him moving. Maybe he was more like the future Arthur than Merlin gave him credit for.

“Right,” Merlin agreed, nodding. “But I wasn’t talking about you. Not really.” Merlin slid back into the river and bent over so far that his head dipped under the water. Arthur knelt on the shore, staring curiously at Merlin’s back for a few moments before the dark haired male stood up abruptly. Merlin shook out his hair and took a deep breath of air. Stumbling a bit, he made it to the edge of the river and pulled himself completely out.

“Are you crazy as well as stupid?” Arthur asked, voice quiet. Merlin squeezed out his shirt and shook his head again, water drops flying.

“Course not,” Merlin said. “Unless you want me to be. I can’t stop what you call me. Learned that from experience.”

“What?” Arthur stood up, trying to show importance over Merlin, but he was too short to seem very intimidating. He pressed his lips together and frowned. “From experience?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Merlin said, waving a hand. “You should take a dunk in the river too. It’s pretty nice, and you could probably do with a bath.”

“I beg your pardon?” Arthur asked, offended. He didn’t have much time to feel that way before Merlin had easily pushed him off the bank and into the water. He rolled twelve feet before he sprang up, spitting and shocked. “I’ll have your head!” he exclaimed in pure disbelief.

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. Arthur did not seem to appreciate it.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” he called down to his lord. “And then cut it off yourself, by the way. Peasant rules.”

“I’ll deal with formalities later,” Arthur grunted as he pulled himself out of the river. “First I’ll hunt you down!”

And Arthur was running down the bank toward Merlin, clothing soaked and sloshing around his body. Merlin let out a bark of laughter and bolted away. He may have been honestly worried about Arthur’s words, but the huge smile and laughter escaping Arthur’s throat kept him easy minded.

For an hour they chased each other all down the river and around the trees until they had run three times around their encampment. Merlin dropped to his knees and then rolled onto his back in the rough forest grass. He panted heavily, tired from the chase. It took only a second before Arthur crashed down on top of him with a cry of triumph. Merlin coughed harshly as all the air was forced from his lungs.

“Caught you,” Arthur declared, also breathless. Age aside, Arthur seemed to have burned as much energy as Merlin, and it was only morning. “Now off with your head.”

“Which weapon shall be my undoing?” Merlin asked, slipping his hand into his damp pocket. “Did you bring an axe? Clean cuts are the best.”

Arthur grimaced. “Not an axe,” he whined. “You’re treason is too serious for that.”

“Then perhaps a long sword,” Merlin suggested. “The weight should compensate for your size.”

“Without control, I could miss your neck entirely,” Arthur pointed out. Merlin smiled.

“Then how about a torturous, slow death? Does the punishment fit the crime?” he asked.

Arthur smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “I think that’ll do. What did you have in mind?”

“This,” Merlin said and pulled from his pocket a glittering red stone. He held it up between them so Arthur could see it properly from his position on Merlin’s chest. It was one of the stones from the bottom of the river, and Merlin had finally figured out where he’d seen it before.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, hesitantly taking it from Merlin’s fingers. He rolled off Merlin to lie in the grass beside him, holding the stone up to catch the light.

“A gift,” Merlin said, pushing himself up to gauge Arthur’s reaction. He already knew the impact though. “I think it would look great as a necklace. And if anyone disrespects you, you could use it to slowly saw off their heads.”

Arthur chuckled at that, and Merlin smiled. “A necklace, huh?” Arthur asked. “I don’t know about a weapon, but it is rather fetching. I’ll consider the idea.”

Merlin felt his chest heat up. That was the stone Arthur wore about his neck even in Merlin’s time. He’d heard the servants talking about it once. They said it was a dragon stone, a symbol of Arthur’s house. They said it was a dimmed ruby, a symbol of Arthur’s wealth. But it was just a worthless red stone from the bottom of a river, a symbol of Arthur’s adventures.

“Will you keep it?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Arthur pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yes,” he said. He pushed himself up to look at Merlin and nodded again. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin said. He couldn’t stop smiling. Arthur almost never thanked him… for anything. Knowing Arthur would keep this necklace for so long made this moment so much more powerful, and his heart almost hurt from the force.

Arthur looked away from the stone and over at Merlin. His young blue eyes seemed to search Merlin’s entire face. His smile was bright, but then he bit his lip, worried it between his teeth, and took a deep breath. His eyes glanced into Merlin’s and then down toward Merlin’s chin and back up. When he let out his breath, he turned forcefully away to lie on his side, looking the other direction. His cheeks burned a bright red, and he held the stone close, spinning it in his fingers.

“Archie?” Merlin asked, a little concerned.

“Can we just -,” Arthur began but stopped. Merlin couldn’t see his face anymore. “I just want to rest for a bit before we continue on.”

Merlin let out a slow breath and nodded. “Alright,” he said. “But we need to dry off first. You mind if I use a spell? I don’t have any other clothes.”

“Fine,” Arthur answered, not moving at all to look back at his companion. Merlin put his hand out toward Arthur’s slim shoulders and spoke softly in his smooth language. Arthur’s clothing faded from damp to dry in an instant, but the warming effect of it made Arthur curl up. Merlin nodded and did the same to his own outfit.

“Just let me know when you want to go,” Merlin said and dropped back into the grass. Arthur let out an agreement of a noise and nodded, but otherwise stayed curled around his new red prize.


	6. The Fight

It didn’t take long for orphan Archie to start pulling lose strings from his pack to wind together into a necklace. He thought Merlin didn’t notice, but it was hard to miss when you were the only two around and you knew that stone eventually ended up as a necklace. Arthur tried to hide it, and Merlin couldn’t help but grin every time he noticed Arthur being embarrassed about it. Arthur in the future was bad enough about hiding his emotions when he was embarrassed or being too kind. This young Arthur was even more inexperienced, and he wore his emotions like a blush on his cheeks. It was obvious when you were looking for it. When Merlin had pointed out the new jewelry, Arthur had changed the subject to trees and pulled out his map to look busy. Merlin looked over his shoulder and pretended to believe him.

There was no way Arthur could tell where they were from the map. It was a good map, not as detailed as the ones in the future, but still good. However, since they weren’t following a path, the map was pretty much useless for Arthur, who hadn’t known which way he was going from the beginning. Merlin knew exactly where they were though. They were heading out of the Camelot woods and across the open plains. Between them and Ealdor were the forest and cliffs of Ascetir. Merlin had taken the long way through the forest. It gave him more time with Arthur, but he’d done it more for safety reasons than destiny reasons. Bandits liked the plains.

But it was nice spending time with Arthur as well… even if it was a pint sized version who still thought Merlin was generally useless.

“Archie, what kind of people do you like to be around?” Merlin asked as he marked their path by breaking off a twig from a tree which tore a line down the bark.

“My father says you stay around the people you most want to earn the respect of. Vicinity breeds loyalty,” Arthur replied. He was kneeling by a bush, wiggling his finger at a wild hare. “With that in mind, I would like to be around knights. Loyal knights are the best men you can find.”

“And you will have them. More than you can want,” Merlin said. He stood back from the scene, not wanting to scare off the animal that was slowly inching closer to Arthur. “But what kind of people would you choose personally? Anyone in the world… to be your friends.”

Arthur dropped his hand a bit and the hare sniffed the air nervously. Arthur frowned and waved at it again.

“Since I have no knights… Well my nanny used to tell me to be friends with whoever I most wanted… to be like, to be around people I admired,” he said. The hare touched its nose to his fingertips. Arthur smiled and slowly moved to touch the creature’s head.

“Who do you want to be like?” Merlin asked, leaning on the tree and crossing his arms.

“My mother,” Arthur answered without hesitation. “Everyone says she was a wonderful person with wisdom and grace.”

“People say all sorts of things after people die,” Merlin said monotonously. Arthur turned around too quickly and the hare dashed off into the undergrowth. Arthur was glaring.

“Excuse me?” he asked. Merlin stared at him steadily. “Are you trying to say my mother wasn’t wise and graceful?”

“I have no doubt your mother was a brilliant woman,” Merlin said. “But she loved your father very much, and people don’t tend to love someone who is completely unlike them.”

“What?” Arthur huffed out, standing abruptly. He looked uneasy behind his anger. Merlin pushed off the tree and shrugged.

“There must be something in your father that attracted her. Maybe she liked the way his eyes looked after a ride or the way he saw his people. I imagine… the king had a great vision for his kingdom. It just became a little skewed when your mother died,” Merlin explained.

“God, what is it with you?” Arthur groaned, throwing his hands up. “Every time we talk, you try to prove how great my father is.”

“No. I completely agree with you. Your father is a terrible man who kills innocent people who have done nothing wrong, people who don’t even use magic. He kills all magic users because just one made a mistake. It’s not fair. He yells, and he gets angry, and he’s blinded by his revenge. He’s losing his skill as a swordsman. He’s putting on weight. He’s losing his hair. If his temper wasn’t bad enough, his hygiene pushes him over the edge. He’s a disgusting man, inside and out, and he doesn’t deserve an heir like you,” Merlin said.

No sooner had he stopped speaking than Arthur was shoving him roughly, causing him to stumble back into the tree. The prince looked more flushed now than before.

“Shut up!” he yelled.

“Why?” Merlin asked, planting his feet firmly so as not to be knocked over again. “You hate him too, don’t you? You don’t care if someone speaks badly of him. He’s not your father anymore. He’s not your king. If you plan on keeping who you are a secret, you can’t go around getting upset when someone degrades him. You’re thinking it too. You’re just not man enough to admit it.”

“I said shut up!” Arthur said again, trying to push Merlin but failing this time. Merlin shoved his hands out, however, and caught Arthur just right. The blonde hit the dirt and skinned his elbow. He looked up at Merlin in shock. He touched his elbow to scale the pain and then only had eyes for the man who had been so gentle until now. Merlin knelt down and loomed over the fallen prince.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Archie,” he said. “I don’t like your father. Hate is a bit strong, but I definitely fear him. But there is more to a person than what you feel personally for them. Beyond your father is the kingdom he raised. It is prospering. The people are surviving. He is caring for his people. And beyond your father, there are other people to worry about. There is someone I care for and fear even more than the current king. I know they will be the greatest person in the whole world, in everyone’s world and not just in mine.”

“W-who’s that?” Arthur asked, slowly extending his arm out to push himself up.

“You.” Merlin held his breath a moment while he let that thought sink in. “But you are not the best man in the world yet. You have such a long way to go. You must learn to be forgiving and wise. Being king is not an honor. It is a duty. You have a duty to rule with dignity, honor, and justice for the sake of your people. You must learn to love others and most of all to trust your heart. Don’t let others manipulate you.”

“But if I listen to you, isn’t that letting you manipulate me?” Arthur asked. Merlin smiled and shrugged slightly.

“Not if you believe what you’re doing is right in your own heart,” he said. “I’m just counseling you. It’s what wise old men do.”

“You aren’t-!,” Arthur began, and his face flushed. He looked slightly to the right before continuing. “You aren’t that old.”

“Oh? You’ve been calling me a stupid old man the whole time I’ve been here,” Merlin reminded.

“Well you’re not old, alright?” Arthur snapped, pushing himself to his feet and shuffling quickly away. “But you’re still an idiot!”

“Of course, Archie,” Merlin said.

He took a step to follow the blonde and paused. He thought he heard something, or maybe he had felt it. His senses were fighting to claim which one had noticed something odd in the air. Merlin frowned at the forest. He saw nothing with his eyes, but his heart was pounding. He could almost hear it, whispering to him.

“Merlin.” He could hear a woman in his head – a woman he did not know. She sounded coy and, for a moment, Merlin thought he saw her between the trees, garbed in shimmering green, but then she was gone without a move or a sound.

“Hey!” Arthur’s call brought him back. He was up on the next hill. “Let’s go! I want to see this village where you grew up.”

“Ah! Coming!” Merlin called back and hurried to catch up. A magical person or creature might be following, but Merlin would just keep an extra eye out. She didn’t feel like she had any negative intent. So long as she kept to herself, Merlin had no reason to fight her. He just hoped she meant well.

\-- -- -- -- -- --

“Hold still,” Merlin scolded when they stopped that evening. The sun had barely begun to set, but Arthur’s elbow had been giving him some discomfort. Merlin had him sitting on a rock while he tended to the injury.

“Why don’t you just use your magic and fix it already?” Arthur asked, wincing as Merlin rubbed a wet rag over the scratches. It used to be part of Merlin’s shirt, but now it was a badly ripped off section big enough to clean small wounds. Merlin was no less warm or covered because of it. If he got cold, his jacket would be more than enough to suffice.

“Magic isn’t needed for something as small as this,” Merlin said. “If it was infected and you grew ill, then I would use magic. Right now it’s just a scratch.”

“Oh!” Arthur suddenly exclaimed and snapped his free hand down on Merlin’s cleaning one. “That’s how you fixed your head wound, isn’t it?!” And he looked so joyous that Merlin barely had the heart to tell him the truth.

“No. That wasn’t me. Someone else fixed it for me. I mean, it was magic, but I didn’t do it. And speaking of my head wound, how is it that the greatest knight in all Camelot is so sore about a tiny scrape like this?” Merlin wiggled Arthur’s hand off and wiped off the last bit of dirt he could find on the cuts.

“It isn’t like normal,” Arthur said. “I’ve had plenty worse than this in training, but this one hurts more. It sort of burns. And let’s not forget who gave me this injury.”

“Sometimes the smallest injuries cause the most pain. And if you’d been wearing your jacket, you wouldn’t have scratched your elbow,” Merlin answered. He wrapped Arthur’s arm twice in a thin bandage and tied it on. “I’m done. You’ll live.” And he began to push himself up from the ground.

“Um-,” Arthur started and stopped. Merlin paused too and regarded him curiously. “You… Who do you want to associate with? What kind of person do you look up to?”

Merlin shrugged. “Well, like you, I love my mother, and I look up to my father as well. There are a couple of knights I’ve met, before they were knights, who are very honorable and loyal and a lot of fun to hang out with. And of course, there’s you. Oh! And Gaius.”

“Gaius?” Arthur asked, his face twisting in displeasure. “But he’s so old.”

“Do you not like Gaius? I thought he was teaching you,” Merlin said.

Now Arthur shrugged. “Yeah. I like Gaius. I’ve known him since I was born, but I wouldn’t call him my friend… more like a second father, and you can’t be friends with your father.”

“Why not? I love my father. If I could spend more time with him, I would.”

“Why can’t you?” Arthur asked, standing and gently holding his elbow.

“He died,” Merlin admitted. “Killed fighting some of Cenred’s men… to protect me.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “He must have been very brave.”

“Yes, he was. I used to be upset about his death, but I know he’s still with me in spirit.” Merlin looked up at the sky and the sun’s dying orange glow squeezing between the branches. Sometimes he could even swear he heard his father speaking to him, but Arthur didn’t need to know that – at this age or at his future age. Some things were better kept secret.

“That’s good then. So who’s your best friend?” Arthur asked, changing the subject in what he must have thought was a smooth manner.

“Hm? Well it used to be a serving girl, but she’s been busy most of the time recently. Right now, my best friend is you,” Merlin said and reached down to search for the flint in Arthur’s bag.

“But I don’t want to be your friend,” Arthur said.

Merlin stopped what he was doing and looked over at Arthur in worried confusion. “What?” He’d thought they were getting on just fine. Arthur didn’t consider them friends?

“I said I don’t want to be a friend,” Arthur reiterated. “I… I want you to come live in the castle with me.”

“The castle?” Merlin asked, still confused. “There is no castle in Ealdor.”

“Idiot! I meant Camelot, obviously,” Arthur grunted and looked uncomfortable. “I know that’s what you’ve been waiting to hear from the start – that I’ll go back. Well I will. I’ll go back to Camelot, but I want you to go back with me.”

“Arthur…,” Merlin began and bit his cheek. He took a short breath and tried again. “Arthur, I –”

“You wouldn’t need to worry about being a servant or anything,” Arthur interrupted hurriedly. He was looking at Merlin pleadingly and took a step closer to the wizard. “I’d get you a good position, like my … my advisor or tutor or something.”

“I can’t,” Merlin said, frowning deeply. He didn’t want to dash Arthur’s hopes, but he had no choice in the matter. Once he got Arthur back to Camelot, he would be returning to the future. He couldn’t stay. Besides that, Merlin missed his own Arthur.

“Please!” Arthur whined and took a half step back. “I’m not cut out for sleeping on dirt floors everyday or field work. I know I’m not… but I can’t go back to Camelot on my own. I need you to help me. I can’t survive my father by myself.”

“Yes you can,” Merlin assured. He took a step toward Arthur, and the prince took a step away. “You won’t always have someone to back you up. You have to learn to believe in yourself and just stand up for what you believe is right – without help from anyone.”

“You’re just trying to sound wise so you don’t have to come back with me,” Arthur ground out. “I’d protect your secret from my father. I’d protect you instead of you always protecting me, but you’re just…”

“Arthur,” Merlin tried and reached out to touch Arthur’s shoulder, but Arthur jumped back from him.

“Leave me alone,” Arthur snapped. “I need to be alone. I’m going for a walk.”

And Merlin watched sadly after his tiny prince. He’d somehow convinced Arthur to go back to Camelot, but the prince still had no confidence in himself and had not forgiven his father. Was it even possible to fix those issues now? Especially now, in fact, since Arthur seemed to have lost some bit of faith in Merlin.


	7. The Witch

For an hour, Merlin worried that he should have followed Arthur. It was getting dark, and Arthur wasn't yet a hunter. He knew he'd done the right thing, letting him run off, because if Merlin had followed Arthur then Arthur would have just become even angrier. So for an hour, Merlin worried.

And then that hour ended. For the following hour, Merlin waited patiently. He had spotted Arthur's shirt sleeve, and consequently the rest of the prince, leaning against a tree just out of talking distance of the camp. He wasn't sure how long Arthur had been there, but he had a suspicion that Arthur had never truly left the area. Now Merlin was just left contemplating how long until Arthur returned to the fireside so Merlin could apologize... again.

Sometimes it seemed all Merlin did was apologize to Arthur. Sorry for dropping breakfast. Sorry for spilling the wine. Sorry for disappearing for two days to save your life when you thought I was in the tavern but I was actually almost dying. Sorry for your loss. Sorry for being late. Sorry for whatever is making you feel bad. Sorry for being in love with you.

Merlin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He'd never get around to saying that last bit, especially at this rate. He wasn't even doing well with a pint sized Arthur. How was he supposed to convince a grown man that he wasn't just some idiot servant? Arthur still got mad at him for 'crossing the line' and kicked him out of the room on a regular basis. How was Merlin supposed to show his worth if Arthur wouldn't listen?

Oh. Merlin sat up straight and pursed his lips. There was an idea. He stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders, and cleared his throat. He saw Arthur shift to watch him and then leisurely strolled from the camp site as though going to collect more wood or pee. He restrained himself before he could start humming.

Once he was a good distance out, he walked behind a tree and stopped. He peeked out, though, and looked back toward the shining fire. They should really put it out soon, but until Arthur was back, it was safer to keep it lit. Just as Merlin had suspected, as soon as he'd left the area Arthur came slowly stepping out of the bushes. He really didn't change as he grew up. He just changed who had to leave the area. Arthur left this time to pout in the woods, but in the future he would always send Merlin off and out of the room so he could pout alone. It was good to know he understood Arthur enough to notice at least this much.

Merlin turned his head toward a whisper through the trees. It sounded like.... and there she was, the woman from before. She stood between two trees, a hand pressed to the larger of the two. She had long golden blonde hair and shining green eyes that stood out even at night. She wore a green gown that was just a shade too bright to be mistaken for a tree or bush. It was nearly camouflage. Around her neck was a silver necklace.

"Emrys," she spoke in his mind, and she sounded almost amazed to see him. "Long have I dreamed of speaking with you."

"You're not speaking now," Merlin answered, defensive. She smiled, something surprisingly kind, and nodded. With a tilt of her head, she motioned for him to follow her further from camp.

"I promise I mean you and the future king no harm," she said as she walked off. Merlin glanced back at the fire. Arthur sat by it and glanced in Merlin's direction, but the young blonde couldn't see Merlin this far out. Merlin nodded to him regardless and then followed the witch.

"Who are you?" he asked when they'd stopped.

"My name is Tethella," she answered swiftly. "I'm a sorceress and seer. And you are Emrys, the sorcerer of legends." Again, she sounded in awe.

"What do you want with me?" Merlin asked. Her stance was unguarded, as though she feared no attack, from Merlin or otherwise. She concealed no weapons in her lithe gown, but she had powerful magic. Merlin could sense that.

"I wanted to warn you. There are bandits nearby... and I wanted to meet you. Your window here is small. I didn't have much time," Tethella explained. "I have studied your legends, Emrys. You and your king will do amazing things together."

"I know Arthur's destiny and my own," Merlin agreed, but Tethella shook her head.

"No. What you have yet to understand, Emrys, is that they are one and the same," she said. "I have tried to watch the young prince until your arrival, and I have seen him since. Come." and she held out her hand. "I can show you what's truly troubling his heart."

Merlin bit his cheek. She sounded like one of the kinder sorcerer's. She didn't seem to mean any harm. Merlin stepped forward and took her hand, prepared to defend at any moment. She pulled him closer, placed her free hand on his cheek, and tilted her head back slightly. That's when Merlin noticed they were the same height. She was tall.

Suddenly, though, Merlin couldn't think about Tethella. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as his mind was thrown into visions. It was senseless, pointless scenes really. Stables. Kitchens. Dinner tables. All were filled with people, including Arthur. It would be nothing, just a princely life, except for the growing stirring in Merlin's gut. He could feel Arthur's emotions. Everything was nervous and growing worse by the second. Merlin recognized the feeling. He'd had it too growing up. He suspected most young men did. Arthur was developing crushes.

And then there was Uther, all over the place, yelling and condemning the 'unnatural people', the ones who practiced magic and corrupted the hearts and minds of people, the people who deserved to be executed. Arthur was afraid. Why was he afraid? It was small and then worse and then even Merlin's heart began to race and panic as visions moved by faster and less focused. Arthur wasn't concentrating. He was frightened, and Uther's booming voice of condemnation echoed over it all.

And then Merlin recognized himself in the visions, bleeding in the forest. A drop of blood slipped from his head wound and formed a red glitter at the bottom of a river. It was the stone Merlin had given to Arthur. The vision moved from looking at the stone to looking at Merlin, and the shivering feeling in Arthur chest and gut returned. Merlin gasped and the visions ripped back.

Tethella snapped her hand away from Merlin's face and let out a quick breath. She smiled at Merlin, understanding glittering in those glowing eyes of her, and Merlin nodded.

"Arthur's...," he began, but Tethalla's eyes went hard and her head snapped in the direction of the camp.

Merlin turned as well, and there, standing in the nearby trees, was the very blonde they were talking about. He was frowning hard and wearing his sword. His expression was hard to see beyond the frown, but he was definitely looking at the pair of sorcerers. Tethella dropped Merlin's hand and stood loosely to the side.

"Arthur," Merlin said and took a step toward his prince. Arthur's hand reached up to touch the stone hanging from his neck. His fingers barely grazed it before he had taken off running back to the camp. "Arthur!"

"Go, Emrys. He needs you. Remember. There are bandits," Tethella warned. Merlin nodded to her and she faded into the wind.

Merlin dashed off back to the camp, ready to clear the air between them and tell Arthur he understood now. Tethella's visions of Arthur made something quite clear to Merlin which gave all new depth to Arthur's decision to run away, and Merlin was prepared to use it to help Arthur become the man he was meant to be. But when Merlin stopped in front of the camp, Arthur wasn't there. Arthur should have had time to return long before Merlin, but he wasn't here. His supplies were here, but...

"Arthur?!" Merlin called out, but only a spooked owl replied. Merlin turned in a circle, but there was no hidden teenager, no clues. Had he run off again?

Merlin bent down and looked in Arthur's bag. Everything was there except the sword and money. Arthur wasn't coming back. Merlin did a quick sweep, decided the easiest path through the forest, and took off running in that direction. Arthur would have chosen the smoothest escape route, the one with the least chance of getting lost on. Merlin knew the woods, but they were different in this time and it was dark. He hoped Arthur had chosen this path and that he could lead Arthur back to camp without getting lost himself.

It didn't take as long as he expected. No one could run through the forest without making noise, not even highly trained knights. Arthur's crunching feet called out long before Merlin could see his form hurrying through the underbrush.

"Arthur!" Merlin called out.

"Leave me alone!" the young man called back.

Merlin pressed his lips together and tried to run faster, but Arthur seemed to gain speed with the knowledge that Merlin had spotted him, and they were evenly matched. Merlin's eyes filled with golden light and the world slowed down around him, allowing him to easily make up the distance between them.

"Get off me!" Arthur shouted as Merlin grabbed him by the wrists. "Go back to your woman!"

"Arthur, calm down," Merlin grunted, but the prince continued to resist. "Stop being a child!" he scolded loudly, and Arthur instantly froze. Merlin felt his chest contract too. He'd never heard Uther say it, but it sounded so much like him somehow. He hated sounding like someone people feared.

Arthur turned his head away, tears stinging the edges of his eyes. "That's why you don't want to come back with me, isn't it?" he asked.

"What is?" Merlin asked.

"That woman in the forest. That sorceress. She's your woman, isn't she? You don't want to come back because you lo... you want to stay with her," Arthur said, small hands curled into fists.

Merlin shook his head and lowered himself to be on level with Arthur. "I don't love her," he said clearly. "There is only one person I would risk everything for, that I would fight and die for. There is only one person I love, Arthur, and it is you." He let go of one of Arthur's wrists and moved Arthur's bangs from his face in a caressing manner. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Arthur's forehead.

"But.... you said you didn't want to return to Camelot with me," Arthur said. His voice was quiet and puzzled, but also a bit hopeful. Merlin frowned and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair a bit more.

"You will be strong one day. You will be so brave that you need no one else to make sacrifices for you... but they will. I will. I cannot go back with you, Arthur, but I love you. Do you understand? I love you, from the bottom of my illegal sorcerer heart, and I will love you in the future when you've stopped being a brat and move up to being a prat, when you act like you don't care and then go behind your father's back to help the needy. I will love you when you call me old or lazy or forgetful or a fool. I will be annoyed with you, but I will never stop loving you. And I want to go back with you and be your advisor, but I can't. I'm not meant to be here. Do you understand?" Merlin asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No!" he shouted and threw himself into Merlin's chest, hugging the sorcerer tightly. He cried, but Merlin wouldn't comment on it. He would rather let Arthur cry than to talk about it and have the blonde hide the fact. "I don't want you to go."

"Then I won't," Merlin said. He wasn't sure why he was promising this. He couldn't stay and he knew it. "I can't go to Camelot, but I'll stay with you."

Arthur hugged him tighter and Merlin returned the embrace, but he didn't know what he was thinking. He said it to make Arthur feel better, wanting to keep him from crying, but he would need to return to the future at some point. He couldn't be here forever. But he still said it, and Arthur approved, so he said it again.

"I'll stay with you forever."


	8. The Transformation

Merlin woke up the next morning to a tapping on his shoulder. They'd made it back to camp. It was back tracking on the way to Camelot, but Tethella had said bandits were in the area and Arthur had left his stuff when he'd run off. It had been a good night, and they'd fallen asleep with their heads together. Merlin felt closer to Arthur and very warm. He'd made Arthur happy last night with his declaration, and that notion on its own made him feel whole on the inside. He hated seeing Arthur sad, seeing Arthur cry.

He batted away the call at first, but it became more insistent. When he realized that someone was hitting him in the shoulder, Merlin jolted awake. His eyes darted nervously, taking in his surroundings for dangers, and he saw six large men standing around him. The one tapping him was Arthur, and in Merlin’s doze, he almost forgot to notice Arthur was fourteen. He sat up next to Arthur and glared at the four smirking men. Bandits. Merlin knew this would happen. They'd been too conspicuous last night.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Whatever you’ve got,” one spoke up. He had a dark beard and long hair. For a moment, it almost looked like Balinor, but Merlin knew his father was in a cave up north, and he’d never do something like this. His voice was too high as well, and his eyes weren’t sad and tired.

Merlin could feel Arthur shaking beside him, though he seemed unafraid in his posture and expression. Merlin put himself halfway between his prince and the aggressors before setting his determined look up into the eyes of the leader.

"We don't have anything," he said. "Just some clothes."

"I see a pretty fancy sword sticking out of the pack," the man said. "And I thought I heard a bird last night talking about the prince of Camelot."

"You were misinformed by the bird," Merlin said. "Birds like to play tricks on people."

The man's hand came in contact with Merlin's face, backhanding him. Merlin's face turned but he refused to falter and simply returned his resolute look back to the leader. The man did not seem pleased by it. Neither did Arthur.

"Take the sword," Arthur said. "If that's what you want, then take it and leave us in peace. Please," he added as an afterthought.

The bandits chuckled, all but the main one with the dark hair. He was staring at Arthur, something Merlin monitored with caution. If this man decided to belay their lies and take Arthur hostage, things could get a lot messier. Merlin would need to take them all out before he could be hit or Arthur kidnapped.

"That's a pretty necklace, you've got there," the man said conversationally.

"It's a stone from the bottom of the river over there," Arthur said, pointing. "Go get your own."

This time only the main man laughed. "Did you hear that, men? He told me to go get my own." A ripple of laughter fled through the men as their leader leaned down close to Arthur. "Why don't I just take yours and save myself the trouble?"

"It's not special," Arthur said. Merlin glanced at him and could tell he was lying. Arthur was tense. Even Merlin knew how much Arthur liked that necklace. He hadn't even taken it off when he'd been angry with Merlin.

The leader leaned over to grab the sword from Arthur's pack, examining the weight of it as he pulled it out. It was much too small for him, made for a budding youth, which this man most definitely wasn't. Then he turned the sword to point at Arthur. Merlin smacked his hand against the broad side of the sword and knocked it away from him. The man glared at him but kept the sword away.

"You're very brave in the face of us. Where does your courage spawn from? Is it from this child? Family relation, perhaps?" he asked. Merlin could tell the man didn't really care, so he didn't grace it with an answer. "No. You look nothing alike," the man continued. "Oooh, yeah. I heard last night... you like little boys, don't you?"

Merlin's cheeks flushed. "No," he said. "This is my master."

The man burst into laughs along with his crew. "Master?" he jeered. "Sounded a bit more intimate than that last night. Right, men?" and they chuckled more.

"Just take the stupid sword and-," Merlin began but was cut off by the blade crashing into his arm and knocking him down, his head cracking on a rock. Arthur let out a cry, but it just made the men laugh more.

"Stupid, it is not," the man said. "As I'm sure you'll agree, it has a nice bite. The handle is beautifully carved. I will take it. It shall fetch a nice penny on the market. But I'll take the necklace too. My wife's been crowing about needing nice jewelry."

Merlin pressed his hand tight against his arm where he bled profusely from. The cut was deep, but not mortal... yet. It could be fixed. It could, but it needed a physicians care. Merlin did his best to keep pressure on it, as Gaius had taught him, but pressing on it just made it hurt and he hissed and writhed slightly on the ground. His head bled too, but head wounds always bled more than they should.

Arthur's eyes were on Merlin as the bandit came close to him. The dark man reached forward for the shiny stone necklace, but as soon as he fingers touched it, Arthur's eyes shot full of fire and he focused all his attention on his attackers. He smacked his hands right over the leader's ears, a loud popping sound ringing out. The man dropped the necklace and stumble back with a cry, holding his ears and dropping the sword. Slowly, his left ear began to bleed. The man tried to speak, but it came out disoriented. More than minor loss of hearing.

"You will not touch it!" Arthur called out, strong and authoritative. He snatched up his sword and held it out like he'd been trained to. His eyes glanced to Merlin on the ground. "And you will not touch him either."

"Kid's been trained," one of the other bandits said in anger and shock. Their leader was still kneeling on the ground and holding his ear. The men looked at each other and then the one who'd spoken drew his sword.

"Take one step closer and I will end you. I have been trained to kill since birth," Arthur warned, shifting so his feet were in the proper stance. "He may not love me," he said, "But I love him and I will fight you all to the ground to defend him."

"We're fightin a whoopsie," the one with the drawn sword chuckled softly and stepped closer. His voice become dangerously low. "You hurt my boss. I think taking revenge on the two of you is more than fair."

Merlin pushed himself up to a sitting position, but his arm stung like poison and he kept his hand there to hold it. He let out a heavy breath and his eyes flashed golden. The one with the drawn sword cried out and dropped his heated weapon. He turned shocked eyes on Merlin and then glared. Before he could move more than one step, Merlin sent him flying back into a tree. He dropped to the ground, unconscious or dead Merlin didn't know.

He turned his eyes on the others, shocked. Now they knew he had magic, but Merlin had known Arthur couldn't take all five on his own. The leader seemed to regain himself at the reveal and forced himself to his feet. His eyes were watering and his ear bleeding, but he still made a wild gesture to Merlin and let out a jumbled sound that was just clear enough to be understood to mean 'Kill him.'

The remaining four bandits brandished their weapons and moved in without hesitation. Merlin glared, but he was sweating and he felt woozy. Arthur noticed and lunged at the closest man. With surprising ease, he caught the man off guard and stabbed right through his stomach. Even Arthur seemed frightened by how quick it had gone and how easy his sword had slid in. He stood staring at his bloodied sword well after the man had fallen. Unfortunately, the bandits were not as stunned.

"Archie!" Merlin warned and Arthur blocked just in time, shock and fear mixing in his expression as he looked into the eyes of his attacker.

The remaining two advanced on Merlin, but one Merlin vs two bandits isn't fair, even with Merlin wounded. They got a good strike in as Merlin's head rushed from his warning to Arthur. He got another sword graze to the shoulder, same side, but then his head came back to him and he screamed as his eyes flashed gold and the men were thrown into each other and then struck down by their comrades' swords. Now it looked like a team squabble gone bad. Merlin let out a pant of air and was only off the ground thanks to his bloody but uninjured hand, which held the grass beneath him.

Arthur was doing nicely, considering his fear. He'd been lightly grazed on the arm, but his parries were so good that the bandit couldn't land a solid blow. Arthur's eyes flickered to Merlin as the sorcerer bent over the earth, and all he saw was the blood coating Merlin's arm. He looked at the last bandit and let out a crazed battle cry as he kicked him in the chest instead of stabbing with his sword. Then he was pressing the man back until he hit a tree. Arthur snatched the man's sword wrist up and pointed his sword at the man's neck. Both fighters were breathing heavy, Arthur from more adrenaline than fatigue. He looked over at Merlin, who was looking back at him, and then lowered his sword. He knocked the man's sword to the ground and kicked it toward Merlin.

"Take your leader and leave before I kill you," Arthur ordered. "Leave!"

Despite being almost twice Arthur's size, the uninjured bandit nodded and scurried to his injured leader. The man could barely walk, but his only living underling made sure to get them both out of the camp area as fast as possible, half dragging his boss. Arthur stabbed his sword into the dirt and slid over to Merlin on his knees.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He reached down and tore his shirt. It wasn't as quick or clean as Arthur had once done for Merlin before, but this Arthur wasn't yet as strong. When he had a good strip, Arthur quickly wrapped it around Merlin's arm where the deepest wound was. He pulled it tight and flinched when Merlin hissed.

"I-I'm alright," Merlin said and fought to sit up straight.

"You are not alright," Arthur growled. "I don't know why I asked. Come on, stand up. I'm taking you to Gaius. He can help."

Merlin stood up with Arthur's help but had to lean on him a little to stay up. His head spun but he tried to hide it. Arthur seemed unusually warm to the touch, but Merlin realized it was because his arm had lost too much blood. He was cold, that was the problem.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I should have seen the attack coming."

"Don't apologize, idiot," Arthur snapped. "Just walk."

They started off in the direction of Camelot, and after only a few steps, Merlin sagged his shoulders.

"You.... You were really great back there," he said. If possible, Arthur felt hotter under his touch.

"I'm not a total coward, you know. I really have been trained to hunt and fight. I just always freeze under pressure," the prince said in that tone Merlin knew so well, the one saying he was being dumb.

"You didn't freeze this time," Merlin pointed out and smiled down at him. Arthur glanced up at him and then turned away, cheeks flooding with color.

"Yeah well... they were going to kill you," Arthur mumbled. Merlin stopped walking and sighed.

"You did say you wanted to protect me," he said and dropped to his knees.

"H-Hey," Arthur began and took hold of Merlin's shoulders to keep him steady. "A-Are you-"

Merlin leaned in and pressed his lips to the younger Arthur's, cutting off conversation. He had told himself he wouldn't do anything to this younger version of the one he really loved, but the world was spinning so much. He kept telling himself he had a destiny, that he couldn't end here, but his arm had gone totally numb and he was so dizzy.

"I-Idiot! Don't-!"

Merlin let out a sigh and saw the shadows take over his vision.

"You said you'd be with me forever!"

\-- -- -- -- --

Shudder. Stop. Shudder. Stop.

The world kept shaking. Merlin tried to raise his arm to his head, but the movement caused pain to shoot through him and he groaned. The world stopped moving, and Merlin felt like he was falling slowly. Everything felt fuzzy around the edges, but he managed to open his eyes after a moment when the world stopped moving altogether and he felt the solid ground beneath him.

"Thank goodness," he heard Arthur sigh. Merlin groaned again and looked around, finally finding his prince kneeling beside him.

"What-," Merlin began, but Arthur cut him off.

"You lost consciousness. I thought for sure you were dead, but that witch from last night showed up and put some kind of spell on your wounds. She said she had stopped the bleeding until you're returned to where you belong, whatever that means. Then she helped me build the sling, and I've been carrying you on it for the last few hours," the young blonde explained.

"Stop," Merlin said and winced. He may not be bleeding anymore, but it still hurt like a dragon bite. "You look tired."

"You look like death. I can rest when we get there," Arthur said, but he sat down anyway.

"Where are we going?" Merlin asked. He felt half asleep; half where he laid on the ground and half somewhere else.

"To where you belong, of course. To Camelot." Arthur leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. "Why? Is there somewhere else you want to go?"

Merlin smiled, remembering a past conversation he couldn't quite place chronologically. "The beach," he said."I’d like... to sit with my toes in the sand and feel the waves."

"The beach?" Arthur replied and fiddled with the hilt of his sword. "We can go to the beach. But only after you get better."

"My mother....," Merlin started and then couldn't find the energy to continue. He felt like he was slipping off. Suddenly there was a slap to his face and he snapped back to consciousness.

"Stop doing that," Arthur ordered. "You keep freaking me out."

"Sorry," Merlin apologized. He could feel his arm much more than when he'd originally passed out. His blood must be replenishing. He wondered if he would lose it all again when he got back to where he 'belonged.' Tethella must have meant the future. Did that mean he'd be going home soon?

"What were you trying to say about your mother?" Arthur asked, keeping Merlin focused.

"My mother used to say... She says it’s one of the best feelings in the world... standing at the wave line," Merlin explained, and he felt as though he'd had this conversation before. Arthur didn't seem to recognize it though, so maybe it had been a dream he'd had while unconscious.

"We should try it... after Gaius fixes you up. We'll go, just the two of us, to the beach." Arthur was looking down at his arms, expression revealing his giddy nervousness. Merlin smiled. He remembered now. He'd kissed this teenager.

Merlin chest fluttered and for a moment, he thought his grown Arthur was the one sitting with him. He could almost hear that deep voice calling his name, but then Archie spoke and it was the same pre-pubescent voice as before.

"So when we get back to the castle, don't use your magic. I'll take you to Gaius and convince my father of your worth. He can appoint you a job in the household. I'm going to try for advisor or council or maybe even tutor, but I'll have to see if he'll listen to me. I wanted you to be by my side when I faced him, but you're in no condition to..."

Arthur stopped mid-sentence and turned to look into the forest.

"I should be stronger when we reach Camelot," Merlin said and managed to push himself up to a sitting position. "Stopping my bleeding seems to be giving me back my strength."

"That's great," Arthur said, distracted. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Merlin asked and listened. He did hear it, the shifting of feet in the underbrush... a lot of feet. "Sounds like a patrol," he said.

Arthur smiled. "They could help us back to the city. We're not far off now. Stay here. I'll go see if they're friendly." Arthur hovered for a second by Merlin, unsure which direction his body wanted to move. Then he leaned in and gave Merlin a kiss on the cheek. When he pulled back he was blushing, but he nodded to Merlin in a confident manner before he left to check over the hill.

Merlin smiled and closed his eyes. This Arthur certainly was easy to care about, but he still loved his Arthur more. They were the same, but Merlin ached with the want to see his grown up knight. He missed the length of his hair and the mature features, the soft eyes and the rough hands. He missed the deep voice and the steady grip. He even missed doing chores. Most of all he missed the smiles and laughter. It was a beautiful thing when you knew you were the one to make him laugh, to banter with him from the very start and make his day a little brighter.

The sorcerer opened his eyes and looked off in the opposite direction from where Arthur had run off. For a moment, he'd thought he heard Arthur's deep voice calling to him from over there. Merlin grunted in effort as he pushed himself slowly, uneasily to his feet.

"Arthur," he murmured, looking out at the trees.

There, he heard it again. He took a few weak steps in that direction before he found his balance. Here he paused to look back toward where little Arthur had gone running. Did hearing the older Arthur's voice mean he'd returned to the future? What was young Arthur going to think when he came back and Merlin wasn't there anymore?

Arthur called him again. Merlin shook his head. He'd always known he'd have to leave, and he'd known he probably wouldn't get a proper goodbye. This should be nothing new. Besides, Arthur was calling him, and ignoring Arthur was a dangerous thing to do.

Merlin stumbled slightly as he walked toward the sound of his lord's voice and became more and more aware of the familiarity of his surroundings. This was the place where he'd first met young Arthur, where he'd first appeared in the past. This was where he'd literally fallen through time.

"Merlin!" It was Arthur. It was Leon. He could hear the knights calling. He thought, perhaps, he may even hear Morgana. In the distance in front of him, he spotted Tethella amongst the trees. She gave him a silent nod and then shivered into nothing.

He felt the magic ripple through him this time, the magic that had thrown him through time. It made his insides quiver and then he hissed loudly and fell over into a tree.

"Ah!" he gasped and snapped his fingers to his arm again. It was bleeding like a fresh wound. Blood trickled down his forehead and over his eyebrow and leaked from the scratch on his shoulder. He was back. He must be in the future. Everything was moving as time commanded. What strength he had regained, he now felt draining out of him anew.

"Merlin?" and it was Arthur, pure and simple and grown. He looked dirty from a hunt, but it must have been a search from all the calling. He wasn't wearing chainmail, just his leather jacket. He looked gorgeous. He looked... right. Merlin's chest heaved with joy at the sight of him. He pushed off the tree and toward Arthur, using the propulsion alone to carry him.

"Arthur," Merlin could only gasp in relief. His feet tripped over themselves and Merlin fell the last few feet between himself and the prince. Arthur tried to catch him, and Merlin rolled into his arms like a limp doll.

"What on Earth happened to you?" Arthur asked, shocked and worried. "Over here!" he called out. "Quickly!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured as the shadows started closing in again. He groaned, feeling ill, and leaned his head into Arthur's chest. "I left."

Arthur bit his bottom lip and wrapped his arms around Merlin, trying to give warmth back to him. "Don't be an idiot," he grunted and put his face in Merlin's hair. He didn't seem to care about the blood running over his fingers. "You're right here."

And as Merlin's blood level returned to what it had been before the good witch had intervened, he heard Arthur's voice whisper something he'd only heard in dreams. "Stay with me."

But then it may have been a dream anyway. After all, that's when Merlin dropped into darkness once more.


	9. The Beach

Quiet at first. It was like being pulled slowly from a river. In fact, Merlin could see the red of stones glittering at the bottom. One in particular shone brighter than the others, and he fought to try and grab for it. The more he swam toward the bottom, the more he felt he was getting closer to the surface somehow.

"How is he?"

"... the mend... know what happened?"

"...found him in the woods..."

The riverbed looked unnatural. There were odd lines in it, like bookcases. There was a table, and over there a window. Then everything started to seem very solid and not like a riverbed at all. Merlin felt his arm begin to ache as he reached for the red stone before it could be lost to the rapidly shifting riverbed.

"When do you think he'll wake?"

"Can't be sure. His body was in bad shape, but I can't see his mind."

Merlin gasped loudly as he broke through the riverbed as though it were the surface of the water. His hand shot out to grab the red stone, but it was suddenly much farther away and hanging around the neck of one of the fuzzy figures in the room. His whole body shook and his arm went into a spasm as he dropped it back to his side, and he whined.

"Merlin?!" Gaius asked, very close.

"What's wrong with him?" Arthur asked as Merlin shivered on the bed and looked around the room for something he couldn't find. He didn't even know what he was looking for.

"He's in shock," Gaius explained, putting his hand on Merlin's uninjured shoulder and fixing the blanket that rested on top of him. "Merlin, it's alright. You're home."

"Home," Merlin repeated, his heart hammering as though he truly had been held underwater for too long. He felt as though he'd been trying to escape the waves for forever. His eyes saw a glint of red light and he saw again the red jewel. "Arthur."

"Yes," Arthur said and sat by the bed like Gaius. "You're in Camelot. You're safe."

Merlin groaned and closed his eyes. He suddenly remembered the morning he'd been whisked off to the past as though it had truly been only that morning. He knew his trip to the past hadn't been a dream, because the pain in his arm stung and kept his order of events undeniable. He chuckled harshly and then hissed.

"Flower picking.... is dangerous," he said and smiled up at Arthur. The prince seemed to want to smile, but something akin to guilt flashed across his face.

"Merlin," he began and then stopped to consider his words. "You were missing for a whole day. Do you remember what happened to you?" The sorcerer sighed and nodded. "So what happened? Who did this to you?"

"Bandits," Merlin groaned. Arthur looked about to leave, but Merlin raised his uninjured hand to call him back. "You already... took care of them."

"What?" the prince asked and looked down at him curiously.

"He must be tired," Gaius said. "It's probably the shock talking."

Arthur's expression turned serious and he frowned. Merlin saw the intense analysis going on beyond Arthur's eyes when they looked into his own. "Are you tired, Merlin?" he asked, and it sounded almost as though he expected Merlin to be lying.

"Y-Yeah," Merlin admitted. He was tired from adrenaline and not enough blood in his veins and from missing Arthur so much. He was exhausted.

"Best to let him sleep now that we know he'll live," Gaius said. "At least, I don't see any signs of brain trauma. Do you?"

"Merlin is a brain trauma," Arthur said and grunted. He never took his eyes off Merlin, but Merlin was looking all over Arthur. Seeing him all grown was like nectar from the Gods. Part of Merlin had thought he'd never see this version again, and it felt so good to finally be near him again. It was a joy to just see the way those clothes hung on the prince. He was so... corporeal, so close.

"I missed you," Merlin said without thinking, but Gaius would probably cover it up with saying it was the shock again. Maybe it was the shock, but it was also true. Merlin closed his eyes and relaxed his body as best he could, but winced when the attempt shifted his cut arm. A steady hand touched him just below the bandaged wound, and when Merlin opened his eyes he saw Arthur closer than ever.

"Get some rest," he said. "I'll talk with you when you're better."

\-- -- -- --

"Breakfast, your highness," Gwen announced as she stepped into the room. Arthur was sitting at his table, reading a scouting report. Merlin was changing sheets with one arm.

"Ah. Thank you, Guinevere," Arthur said and glanced back at his manservant with a smile as the handmaid set it up in front of him. "See how on time she is, Merlin?"

"Quite, Sire," Merlin agreed. "Unfortunately I only have one hand to assist you with."

"Oh, I'm more than happy to help a friend," Gwen assured. "Is there anything else Merlin might need help with?" and she directed the question at Arthur.

"No. I'm going easy on him until he's healed. Thank you, though." Arthur gave her a smile and lifted his cup for a drink. Gwen bowed her head and gave a relieved smile to Merlin before she made her exit.

Everyone had been quite worried about him, it seemed. He'd vanished in the morning and had not returned with the flowers for Morgana. Gwen alerted Arthur first after half the afternoon was gone and he had not shown up. Arthur sent Leon out for a look, and when the knight had returned with a broken basket and some fruit a full search party had been organized to go out the next morning. They found no signs of struggle but also no sign of Merlin. According to Gwen, Arthur had been the first one out to look and they'd been searching through lunch when they'd found him.

When he'd been able to return to work, everyone he passed had given him a clap on the back or a hug, being careful to avoid his arm. It was surprising how many people seemed to have noticed his absence. Arthur only showed how much he cared by how much work, or how little in this case, he gave to Merlin. Other than that, he seemed deep in thought all the time.

Once Gwen had been gone for several minutes, Arthur turned from his breakfast to watch Merlin slowly cleaning up the floor.

"You know, I always had my suspicions," he began. "But you never seemed bothered by things I said or hints I dropped."

"I'm sorry?" Merlin asked, dropping Arthur's clothes from the previous day in a basket.

"I mean it was you, wasn't it? You were the man who led me through the forest when I ran away as a child," Arthur stated more bluntly. "And don't treat me like I'm stupid. I memorized that final morning after it was over, and you showed up in the forest with the exact same wounds you had when you left me back then. I checked an old journal of mine too. They were exactly the same."

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, watching Arthur. He wondered how much of the trip the prince truly remembered. Did he remember the part about Merlin being magic? Was it safe to admit to being the old man?

"How is it possible?" Merlin asked. He meant to go on, but Arthur slapped his hand down on the table.

"I don't know!" he answered loudly. "But I've been over it in my head a thousand times these last few days and a million times in the three years before that. I knew I recognized you when you appeared in Camelot. I even asked you if I knew you, but you didn't seem to recognize me at all. I thought you must be the son of that guy I traveled with, but he was too young to be a father to you, and you looked exactly the same... maybe more rustic."

"Hey," Merlin complained, but Arthur interrupted, continuing his speech.

"But then the other day you talked about the beach, and you said the same thing you said to me as a child, and I knew. You must be the same guy. Somehow you had gone back in time and met me... magically. But when you said it, you didn't seem to be trying to give me that hint. When you vanished, I thought the worst first, but when Leon showed me where he found the basket, part of me already knew where you'd gone. You hadn't been hinting at me because you didn't know the beach was a hint yet. And I was worried, yes I admit it. I was worried because I remembered the state you'd been in when you left me that day... and that's the part that has always stuck with me. Do you realize you left me? You disappeared in the middle of the forest and left me looking a fool in front of half the knights of Camelot!"

"Sorry?" Merlin tried, unable to fully grasp what was happening. Was Arthur actually blaming him?

"Sorry? I thought you had run off or something just to make me look bad. The knights kept that over my head for over a year until I was suddenly better than them at every weapon and could easily knock them to the ground. And my father! He heard and obviously went on a tirade about how you'd been a trick and trying to fool me into believing everything you said, so I started to hate the very idea of you and that witch we met. You know how easy it is to believe magic is evil when the two magicians you meet personally leave you to face ridicule? I thought I was going to murder you if I ever saw you again," Arthur explained.

"But you didn't," Merlin said, as though that made everything better. Arthur stood up.

"So you admit it was you, then?" he asked, and he looked scarily serious. "Everything that happened during those days. You admit to it all?" He sounded dangerous, as though all that hate had slipped back into him from the mere memory and he might very well enact his revenge this very moment.

He was right in front of Merlin then, and the light from the window sent red rays glinting from Arthur's necklace. Merlin had been about to defend himself, but when the light hit his eyes, he just felt all the worry drain from him. He reached out and touched the red stone.

"If you hated me so much," he said calmly. "Why did you keep this?"

"I'm not crazy," Arthur said, although it felt more like a question. The anger slipped from his expression. Merlin smiled.

"You're not crazy," he said. Arthur's arms were around him then, pulling him tight but leaving out his bandaged arm.

"I thought you'd died," the blonde admitted into Merlin's shoulder. "That day and when you disappeared here recently. I thought for sure I was going to find you lifeless in the forest. That's twice you've wormed your way into my life only to leave me worried."

"Sorry," Merlin replied, though it hadn't really been his fault. "I had no choice. I was pulled back and forth without any say in the matter."

"Well... you're here now," Arthur amended and pulled back. "And you're okay."

"Yep," Merlin agreed and nodded. Then he bit his cheek. "So how much of that excursion do you remember, exactly?"

Arthur looked Merlin over curiously, as though trying to discern why his manservant suddenly looked so nervous. Then his eyes got wide and he sucked in a breath of air. He shook his head, and Merlin knew he'd figured it out.

"You're secret's safe with me, Merlin," he said. He even smiled. "It always has been."

Merlin had to admit it. His heart melted.

\-- -- -- --

The ocean was a deep blue and endless. It ran into the horizon, rolling off into nowhere. Looking out, Merlin assumed it had to end somewhere, had to run into something somewhere too far for eyes to see. Nothing just ended. His eyes, as bright as the shallow waters, looked down to his feet, dangling off the rock. His legs were just long enough for his toes to touch the sand and for the foaming waves to slide up to his ankles with every rush they made for the shore. Jacket forgotten farther up the beach, sleeves and pants rolled up, and afternoon sun shining down on him, Merlin decided he'd never been so calm.

"Was it worth it?" Arthur asked, voice surprisingly close. He was standing about fifteen feet off, but Merlin hadn't even known he'd come out of the tent. As had been promised many years ago, it was just the two of them.

"Was what worth it?" Merlin asked.

"The wait," Arthur said and motioned lazily toward the water.

Merlin smiled and looked down at a crab scuttling at the wave-line. "It wasn't a long wait for me. I only told you I wanted to go two weeks ago," he reminded.

"Hm... I keep forgetting it's all recent for you," Arthur mused. "I'm not used to the idea of time travel."

"Me either. I didn't even know it was possible," Merlin admitted and kicked his foot, splashing a bit. "Have you tried standing in it, yet?"

"Yea. Seven years ago, my father brought me here on my request." The prince walked over, his pants rolled to his knees, and hopped up on the rock by his servant. "You were still fresh in my mind then, and I thought if I went to the beach, you might be here. Of course, it was stupid. You didn't even exist then."

"I did. But I was just a kid like you," Merlin said. Arthur looked good, relaxing in the sun, but his face showed he was thinking hard about something. "Are you okay?"

"When I was young... I wanted to run away from Camelot and never look back," Arthur began, squinting in the sun. "I told you it was because of his treatment of sorcerers, and I wasn't lying... but there was something more to it that I never told you."

"I already know," Merlin said, interrupting. Arthur looked at him in minor surprise. Merlin shrugged. "Tethella."

"The green witch, right?" Arthur asked. "Do you know what happened to her?"

Merlin shrugged. "I believe she kept looking out for you when I wasn't around, the same way she said she'd been doing for years. Mm, but I haven't seen her in all my years here. My guess is she moved on, went somewhere else. Fell in love."

Arthur pressed his lips together and pulled his fingers in so tight on his hand in nervousness that some of his knuckles popped. Merlin looked over at him, shading his eyes.

"Speaking of feelings," Arthur said. "When I was young..."

"I told you - I know," Merlin said again with a tiny smile. " Tethella showed me. She'd watched over you your whole life, so she knew all about you."

"I doubt it," Arthur said with a little snort.. Merlin leaned over and grabbed his prince by the back of the head before kissing him full on the lips. He pulled back slowly at first and then quickly, trying to see Arthur's face. Truthfully, the prince had never seemed so unsure of words.

"What I told you in the past was no lie, Arthur. I know it's been a long time for you, but for me it hasn't." Merlin took a deep breath to calm his hammering heart. "And I still love you more than anyone or anything, and I would still die for you, and you're still the one I fear the most because if you reject me then I will have nowhere else to go... You're my destiny."

Arthur pressed his lips together and shut his eyes as though something pained him inside. Merlin went to reach for him, but Arthur caught his hand and pulled him closer for a second kiss.

"Eight years," Arthur murmured between them. "Eight years I waited for you even after you arrived in Camelot. Eight years, and I had you and lost you and trusted you and hated you. I became strong for you... because for eight years, you've been all that I wanted in my life, Merlin. And gods be damned, I didn't even know your name! I didn't even know if you were real, but I had this necklace, and now I know it was you, my idiot of a servant, and that's even better because you've been the only person I could trust for a long time now."

"Arthur...," Merlin tried, but Arthur shook his head. He still held Merlin's head close to his.

"I ran away from home because I fell in love with a sorcerer once and my father killed him while ranting about the unnatural and disgusting people in the world. I was terrified, but you taught me to be strong. I'm still terrified, Merlin, but I'll protect you this time. I will," Arthur declared. "And I know it's stupid to worry because this is your true timeline, but I keep feeling like you're going to disappear again."

"I'm not going anywhere," Merlin assured and ruffled Arthur's hair gently. "Remember what Tethella said? She said I would bleed when I returned to where I belonged, and I bleed here. I told you before - if you want me, I'll stay with you forever."

"I do," Arthur said, voice rough. He kissed Merlin briefly and pulled back to a normal sitting position. "I do, but if you treat me like a teenager, I'll put you in the stocks."

"As you wish, Archie," Merlin said with a teasing grin. He expected Arthur to get mad, but the prince just tried to hide his smiles and looked out at the sea. Merlin's mother had been right. This was the best feeling in the world.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Red Stones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649727) by [JessicaMDawn Reads (JessicaMDawn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn%20Reads)




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